


The Imbalance of Nature

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post S2, Slow Burn, lawrusso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Picks up right where S2 left off. Johnny and Daniel try to find a way to help their kids and get rid of Kreese while working together.
Relationships: Amanda LaRusso/Anoush Norouzi, Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Demitri/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz/Samantha LaRusso, Robby Keene/Moon
Comments: 166
Kudos: 647





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning in this first chapter for mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation. Content warning also for, just, generally how Johnny talks.

In the hours following Samantha’s hospitalization, Daniel LaRusso felt like his entire world had fallen apart. The doctors informed him and Amanda that Sam had in fact cracked two ribs, and sustained a concussion to go with the deep gashes under her arm. Though the injuries were minimal compared to what Miguel and his family must have been enduring, to Daniel it felt like a death knoll. 

Amanda had leaned hard on karate going by the wayside, and initially, Daniel agreed. Karate had brought nothing to their family but pain and strife. Surely it wouldn’t be difficult to give up, right? He spent the evening taking down everything in the small dojo he had set up at his house in Encino, shedding more tears than he’d like to admit over a picture of Mr. Miyagi. 

It was hard not to cry when you felt like such a failure. 

And that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Failure? He had taught his students that they should defend themselves, but he never really taught them when to walk away. It was impossible for him to teach a lesson he hadn’t already learned, it seemed. 

Robby was the one who hurt most of all. The kid hadn’t appeared since the fight, and Daniel was grateful for his absence. What would he say to him if he saw him? He knew Robby well enough to know that he couldn’t have meant to hurt Miguel in such a drastic way – but he also knew that Johnny Lawrence’s blood ran through that kid’s veins. He knew what a temper looked like.

He couldn’t bring himself to go to Miyagi-do. He knew that house and garden only housed memories that would haunt him too vigorously for him to face now. He could only hope putting it off would take the sting out of it later. 

He wondered what he would do now without karate. Even without teaching his students, even without going to Miyagi-do, what would he do without it? Because if the last few months taught him anything, it was that karate is what kept him balanced. Sure, he was terrible at maintaining the balance, but he was never happier than he was when he was doing karate. 

But continuing karate would mean the end of his family, he was sure of it. He couldn’t do that to them.

He was still contemplating his future when his phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered, even though the number was unfamiliar. 

“Mr. LaRusso? It’s Aisha,” the voice on the other end of the line was a little strangled, more than a little worried. Daniel perked up. What more could have gone wrong now? 

“Aisha? What’s going on?” he asked, trying to steady the shaking of his knees. Surely if it was really terrible news, Amanda would have called to break it to him, wouldn’t she? “Is everything okay?” 

“I really don’t want to ask this –” Aisha paused, and Daniel waited impatiently for her to continue. “But have you seen Sensei Lawrence?”

Daniel was so taken aback he felt his mouth fall open. “Wha – why would I know where he is?” 

“It’s just,” and Aisha really sounded like she was going to cry now. “I just can’t get in touch with him and the last time anyone saw him was when he got in the elevator with you, and Sensei Kreese is at the dojo, and he said Johnny left, gave the dojo to him. I – I know he was close to Miguel, I’m really worried that –”

And suddenly Daniel was worried too. He remembered the talk he had with Johnny just a day ago. Kreese wasn’t a part of Cobra Kai, he’d said vehemently, something sparkling in his eyes like honesty. He was never going to be a part of it again. So either Kreese was lying – or something had gone terribly wrong. 

“I’m worried that he might have –”

“Aisha,” Daniel cut her off before her train of thought could become lodged in his brain. “I’m going to try to find him. Can you text me anywhere you think he might have gone?” 

“Sure, yeah, I can do that,” Aisha muttered, and Daniel could hear her sniffle. “How’s Sam?” 

“She’s a little beat up, but she’s tough,” Daniel said. Telling Aisha the finer details would only make her feel worse. “I think she’d like to hear from you.” 

“I’d like to visit her, if that’s okay.” 

“More than okay,” Daniel reassured her. “Send her a text so she knows you’re coming.” 

“Mr. LaRusso?” 

“Yes,” Daniel was absently checking his pockets for his wallet and his keys. 

“Thank you.” 

***

Robby couldn’t remember the last time he’d run as fast as he did when he saw Miguel hit the railing. There was a sudden burst of noise as Miguel had gone over – Robby had lunged forward with his hand out to grab him, far too late – and then a horrible, complete silence in the wake of his descent. He remembered Sam screaming at him, her face white and full of horror, he remembered the students backing away from him. 

And then he ran. 

He ran out of the school, across the fields and into a suburban area he was only marginally familiar with. He didn’t stop running until his body forced him to stop, his lungs burning and aching with every breath, his legs numb and shaking. He stopped as suddenly as he’d started and looked around. He was standing in a park, empty in the middle of a school day. 

Where could he go now? 

There was no one left – his mother was in rehab, Daniel and the rest of the LaRussos were finished with him, even his father would be done once he heard what happened to Miguel, and surely he had already, hadn’t he? Something that serious…

And then he was crying, stumbling toward the slides that could obscure him from anyone who might be looking, sobs shaking his shoulders so hard he felt like he was running anew, with no strength.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. He had joined the fight in order to stop it from escalating, and then he’d allowed Miguel to rile him up past the point of logic. He buried his face in his arms; there was no real excuse for what he’d done, and no judge anywhere would believe anything he came up with. 

Because that was what it would come down to, wasn’t it? He would be arrested, put on trial, and then put in prison. That’s what they did when you hurt someone as badly as he hurt Miguel. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to think of what they would do if Miguel died.

***

Johnny stared up at the dark sky and wondered if Miguel had woken up yet. Momentarily, he regretting throwing his phone into the ocean. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, when the booze was clouding his brain and he was feeling lousier than he could ever remember feeling. But now he craved information – he wanted to know how Miguel was doing, if anyone had caught up to Robby. 

Robby.

He wasn’t sure what to feel when it came to his son. They had started off on such a good foot that morning, albeit awkward, but Robbie was there, in his life, speaking to him. He couldn’t ask for much more than that.

And then Robbie had kicked Miguel over a railing and now Miguel was fighting for his life. 

Something about the entire situation didn’t sit right with him. He was too full of whisky to even think about unraveling it, but it rankled nevertheless. So he stared up at the sky and tried to squint hard enough that it would stop spinning. When he was unsuccessful, he took another swig of his almost empty bottle and let the liquid flow down his throat with no resistance. The whisky had ceased having a taste a long time ago, and now it only really felt like burning.

He considered, for one wild, dark moment, walking into the ocean. Certainly things were so messed up that he could never hope to fix them. All he was doing was making things worse, sticking around here, butting in, trying to change. It would be in the best interest of everyone, wouldn’t it? 

Okay, so maybe he thought about it for more than a moment – he stumbled to his feet and closed his eyes, taking careful, measured steps (as best he could when he was blackout drunk) until the water touched his feet. And then he kept going.

It was shockingly cold – cold enough that Johnny felt painfully sober for a moment before he got used to it. Those few moments of clarity were full of pain, sharp, unforgiving waves of it, and he thought, for a moment, that he would be knocked clean off his feet by the force of it all. He felt a single sob work its way up his throat and wrench itself free before he was sinking into drunkenness again. 

He was up to his chest in the water when he thought he heard someone call his name.

***

Trying the beach had been a fluke. Daniel stepped into a few bars near Cobra Kai’s dojo, a few near Johnny’s house, and the one he had taken Daniel to in what felt like another lifetime, given the crowd a cursory look, and left, dissatisfied. It wasn’t until he was driving by the beach that he remembered Johnny used to spend a lot of time there when they were in high school. In fact, the beach was where they’d met. 

Finding his car was pure luck, but Daniel wasn’t about to question it. Momentarily, he was exhilarated. Finally, he was doing something that would bring good news to someone. 

The broken bottle and the keys sitting inside the car turned his insides cold. Johnny loved that car. There was no reason he would leave it unattended, asking to be stolen. Daniel glanced around, looking for a clue, a sign. He told himself he wasn’t looking for Johnny’s inert body. Johnny wouldn’t do something so stupid. 

And then he saw Johnny standing waist-deep in the ocean. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and took off running.

He called his name, shouting over the sound of crashing waves, trying desperately to get past layers of sand in his shoes, realizing that he was terribly out of shape, as Johnny stepped further into the dark water. This wasn’t going to happen, he told himself firmly. Enough bad things have happened in the last twenty-four hours. This wasn’t going to be another one. 

He shouted Johnny’s name again, his voice breaking over it, and almost collapsed in relief when Johnny looked back at him.

When Johnny didn’t come out of the water, Daniel kicked off his shoes and went in after him, dropping his phone into a discarded shoe to keep it dry. The water was cold – so cold he considered going back, but something in the slump of Johnny shoulders told him not to. Besides, Aisha wanted her sensei to be alright, and Daniel would do everything in his power to make it so.

“LaRusso?” Johnny finally said, his voice rough. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Get out of the water,” he replied.

Johnny shrugged. “I like it in here.” 

“You’re drunk,” Daniel insisted. “You’re going to pass out and drown out here. Come to shore.” 

“Who cares?” Johnny shot back, and this time Daniel heard him slurring over his words. “Wouldn’t bother anyone.” 

“If you _died?_ ” Daniel replied, shocked. “You have a son, Johnny. You have a dojo full of kids who look up to you.” 

Johnny laughed, almost falling over as a wave cascaded over him. Daniel’s stomach clenched. “Didn’t you hear? My son almost killed my best student and Kreese has taken over my dojo. All I’ve ever done is mess shit up. Walking into the ocean would be the best thing for everyone.” 

He wind milled his arms to stay upright, Daniel trying his best to resist the urge to rush to his side and physically yank him back to shore. But force wouldn’t work here, he thought. Johnny was itching to take out some of his anger. They would only finish that fight angrier than ever, and nothing would be solved. 

So Daniel did the best thing he could think of. He appealed to Johnny’s nature. 

“Sounds like a pussy move to me,” he called out. Johnny, who had taken yet another step into the water, froze and turned halfway back to him. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? Taking the pussy way out?” 

He hated using that word, hated shouting it at someone who was already so hurt, but he could see the way Johnny steeled himself against it. 

“I’m trying to do the right thing,” Johnny said finally. “You know, the thing you’re always telling me I should do?” 

“I didn’t mean kill yourself!” Daniel shouted, rushing forward before he could stop himself. “Because that’s what you’ll do if you just keep walking into the ocean. This isn’t just a bender you can bounce back from in a few days, Johnny.” He was almost close enough to touch him now, but crossed his arms over his chest to prevent that from happening. “If you want to do what’s best for everyone, you need to take back your dojo, you need to be there for your son, and you need to get the hell out of the ocean.” 

For a moment, Daniel thought Johnny was considering his statement. He just stood there, his back to him, staring forward, like the words really made an impact. Daniel was momentarily proud of himself for saying something that Johnny, who hated his guts probably the most, would listen to. 

And then Johnny slid, boneless, into the ocean and disappeared. 

“Johnny?” Daniel said immediately. “Johnny!” 

He was only a few feet away, face down in the waves. Daniel grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him up, sliding his own arm around his torso. His eyes weren’t quite closed, and water was leaking from his mouth. He reeked of whisky. Daniel was surprised he’d managed to stay conscious for so long, drunk as he was. 

He had a hell of a time pulling him toward shore, but it gave him something to focus on, something that he could do correctly. By the time he collapsed on the beach, Johnny was starting to come to. 

“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” Daniel snapped, grabbing onto his knees and trying to catch his breath. 

“Fuck off, LaRusso,” Johnny replied with no venom, his chest heaving like he’d been the one to haul himself out of the ocean. 

“Aisha called,” Daniel explained between breaths of his own. “She was worried about you.” 

Johnny mumbled something, his eyes closing for a minute, that sounded to Daniel like, “She’s a good kid.” 

Daniel stared at him in the dark, trying to make out his facial expression. Was he unconscious again? Annoyed? Asleep? It was almost impossible to tell.

“What happened with Kreese?” he asked, against his better judgement. 

“LaRusso, will you just leave?” Johnny mumbled. “You found me, congratulations. Tell Aisha I’m fine and fuck off.” 

“Stop telling me to fuck off,” Daniel snapped. “I just pulled your heavy ass out of the _ocean_ –”

“Not gonna get a thank you from me, champ,” Johnny mumbled. 

Daniel scrambled to his feet. “You know what,” he said, reaching blindly for his shoes and his phone. “Fine. You want to sit on the beach and drink yourself to death? Be my guest. I have a daughter to check in on. I don’t need this shit.” He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him, as if testing his resolve. Would he give up on his dramatic exit? Or was he committed to leaving a blackout drunk man alone on the beach? 

He stomped away (as best one could stomp on heavy sand) and was halfway back to his car when he heard Johnny’s voice again. 

“How’s Miguel?” 

Daniel paused, and turned back to him. Johnny was sitting up now, his head turned in Daniel’s direction, eyes still studiously fixed on the sand beneath him. He considered going back, sitting beside him, trying to convince him anew to get up and fix his life. But the idea of all of that was exhausting, and he knew Johnny wouldn’t stand for it. 

Instead he said, “I’m going to go by the hospital now. Do you want to come?” 

“No. Carmen doesn’t want me there,” and the pain in his voice was obvious, unguarded. Daniel frowned. 

“Why don’t I get your number and I can let you know, then?” 

“Threw my phone into the ocean.” 

“You threw –” Daniel groaned in exasperation. “Not the time for dramatic gestures, Johnny.” 

“Shut up, LaRusso.” 

Daniel pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why don’t you come with me, then? I’ll go inside and check on everyone and leave you in the car. That way you can find out what’s going on without going inside.” 

Johnny didn’t respond, and Daniel took that as acquiescence. He trudged back to Johnny’s side and held out his hand. “Come on, it’s getting late.” 

“We’re not gonna fucking hold hands, LaRusso,” Johnny mumbled, staggering to his feet on his own ungracefully. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Just trying to make sure you don’t die, Johnny.” 

Johnny stumbled every few feet the whole walk back to Daniel’s Audi, his limbs heavy with drink, his pride even more stubborn than when he was sober. Daniel let him finagle his way into the passenger side without comment, without help. Johnny seemed marginally pleased with his lack of interference. 

“Don’t you dare puke in my car,” he said finally, clicking his seat belt on. They were both still wet, covered in sand, smelling of the ocean, but there was no remedy that he could see. They would have to make do.

Johnny scoffed. “What am I, a girl?” 

Daniel didn’t respond, but pulled out his phone and texted Aisha. “Found him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny accidentally repeats history, Robby attempts to do the right thing, Hawk considers Sensei Kreese's differences from Johnny's, and Daniel makes a nice gesture.

Robby didn’t know how many hours he stayed on that playground before he decided he should leave. He couldn’t sleep there, not where kids would find him in the early morning, hunched against the breeze that slithered through the trees in California before it inevitably burned off by noon. He would have to go somewhere, but every time he tried to figure out where he could go, his indecision kept him where he was. Which direction would he walk? What was his end destination? 

And then a pair of headlights were shining so brightly into his little hiding spot that he had to shield his eyes from it. 

This is it, he thought darkly. The police. 

“Robby?” 

He barely recognized the voice. He squinted past the headlights, trying to see who was calling him. Was it better to stay hidden? Should he make a break for it? 

“Robby, come on, I’m not going to do anything.” 

He leaned forward, coming out of his hiding place. “Moon?” he asked. He could just barely see her silhouette, obscured by the lights of her vehicle, the driver’s side door wide open. She was standing at the edge of the gravel in the playground, her arms crossed over her chest. “What –”

“You left your location on on Snapchat,” she said as an explanation. “Come on, get in.” 

Was she going to take him to the police? Was this some sort of ambush? He hesitated, long enough that she scoffed. 

“I’m not a part of this whole rivalry, so you don’t have to worry about me setting you up,” she explained. “I figured you’d need a place to crash tonight. My mom has a spare room.” 

There was no clear explanation that he could see for her offering help, and the longer he thought about it, the more suspicious he became. Moon was Sam’s friend, Sam hated him now. She was Hawk’s ex-girlfriend, Hawk hated him too. Surely all signs pointed to hatred. 

“Why?” he asked finally. 

She sighed. “Everyone deserves a chance at forgiveness, don’t they?” she said. “Or would you rather stay here?” 

He considered the possibility, and realized that even if he didn’t really trust Moon, there was no other option. He let her lead him to her car, muttering his thanks. She didn’t answer him, but he didn’t really expect her to. 

They drove in silence. 

***

Daniel left Johnny in the passenger seat of his car in the parking lot of the hospital, giving him strict instructions not to leave or move his car for any reason. Johnny, to his credit, didn’t give him a smart ass answer in return, just shrugged, and looked up at the hospital apprehensively. So Daniel left him there, trudging back into the building, feeling the sea water drying his clothes just enough that they felt oppressively heavy. 

Sam was asleep when he returned, Amanda dozing on a small cot the hospital must have provided for her. The bruises in her face were just starting to show, dark spots over her brow and cheekbone. It reignited Daniel’s rage, seeing her like that, but there was nothing to do about it right now. He stepped into the hallway, where he wouldn’t wake anyone, and breathed deeply. 

He still had to see if he could learn anything about Miguel.

He knew better than to approach Carmen – he was in the same boat as Johnny in her eyes, and he couldn’t really blame her for being angry. He was angry himself. So instead he wandered the halls, trying to remember where Miguel’s room was, hoping he could glean some information by taking a quick peek into the window. 

Several windows later, he was forced to admit that he didn’t know where Miguel was. He collapsed onto a chair in a random waiting area, trying not to look around at the other occupants, who were surveying him cautiously. And how ridiculous he must look, covered in sand, his clothes halfway dry. He didn’t blame them for looking. 

“Mr. LaRusso,” Aisha’s voice was as startling as it was welcome, and he almost gave her a hug before he remembered the state of his clothes. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s late.” 

Aisha shrugged. “Hard to sleep right now.” 

He agreed. “Did you manage to see Sam?” 

She nodded. “Just for a few moments. I apologized, and she seemed like she understood.” 

That sounded like his Sam. “That’s good. Have you,” he paused, trying to find the right words. “Have you heard anything about Miguel?” 

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Aisha answered, and Daniel saw tears swimming in her eyes before she pushed them back, her Cobra Kai training kicking in. “The doctors said that’s normal.” She inhaled sharply through her nose and Daniel could see she was steeling herself. He could practically hear Johnny’s voice. 

No crying; crying is for pussies. 

“You said you found Sensei Lawrence,” Aisha said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Was he alright?” 

“He’s drunk,” Daniel answered honestly. “And he’s upset, obviously. But he’s fine.”

“Can I see him?” she asked. “Is he here?” 

“No,” Daniel lied, rationalizing that Johnny was in no fit state to see anyone anyway. “I took him home.” 

“Okay,” Aisha shrugged, as easy as that. “Thanks, Mr. LaRusso.” 

“Will you keep me informed?” Daniel asked. “About Miguel? I don’t want to butt in, but –”

Aisha gave him a knowing smile. “Of course.” 

It was disconcerting, knowing that a teenage girl understood the nature of his guilt, but far weirder things had come to pass for Daniel. So he shrugged and let it happen. 

***

Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this drunk. The night he spray painted a dick onto LaRusso’s face was close, but at least that time he’d been able to get up the ladder to the billboard. He wasn’t sure he could pull that off this time. 

He sat in the empty booth at the diner, waiting for his food. The man who worked the night shift knew Johnny well enough that he hadn’t even had to order. He just nodded at him and watched Johnny closely as he stumbled into one of the booths, leaking sand out of his shoes every few steps. 

He could barely remember being in the ocean at this point – it was all a cold, painful blur that he knew he would continue to push down with more booze until it disappeared from his memory altogether. He was familiar with the process. 

He looked through the window to the hospital again. He’d chosen his booth carefully; it offered him an unobstructed view of the hospital building, though he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see. 

He wondered, again, where his son was. Momentarily, and he liked to blame it on the whisky, worry and concern washed over him for Robby. Sure, he wasn’t in the hospital like Miguel, but who was taking care of Robby now? Where would he have gone? 

He liked to think that Robby would have known he could come to him, but he knew even as he thought it that that wasn’t true. 

He drifted on that thought for a while, comfortable with the self-loathing it generated, and listened to the sound of his blood pounding in his ears. He wondered if he’d be sober by the morning, or if he’d still be sitting here, waiting for his indecision to bring him something different. 

He didn’t want to call it Fate. That sounded too gay for him. 

So he settled on letting it be indecision. If he stayed here, didn’t move, surely something would come to pass that would force him to move, to do something else. That wasn’t Fate, that was just how the world worked, right? 

He was too drunk. He was getting weird. 

His burger appeared in front of him, and he mumbled out a thank you to Burt, the guy behind the counter, but the words came out scrambled, slurred. Burt didn’t answer, but passed him a ketchup bottle and went back to his post. 

A few minutes later, Fate, or indecision, came to give him a shove. 

The bell above the door jingled, and Johnny was met with the sight of Daniel LaRusso, standing in the doorway, face pale and pinched, his clothes still dirty and damp. Johnny wanted to laugh at the sight of him, he looked so ridiculous. But then again, LaRusso always did provoke a laugh from him when he was angry. 

“Johnny what the fuck?” he half-shouted, the man behind the counter ignored. “I told you not to go anywhere!” 

Johnny shrugged. “Got bored,” he replied, but that wasn’t true. He just couldn’t stand being that close to the hospital, knowing he couldn’t go in. 

“Bored?” LaRusso repeated, the vein in his forehead jumping. Johnny tried not to look at it, lest his drunk brain decide it was funny. “I thought –”

He broke off the sentence, looking up at the ceiling like it might provide him some patience. 

“Thought I left to find more booze?” Johnny supplied helpfully, his mouth full of food. 

“I thought you went walking into traffic,” Daniel deadpanned. “Or did you forget I had to pull your ass out of the ocean?” 

“How can anyone forget anything when you won’t shut up for five minutes.” 

“Johnny –”

“How’s Miguel?” he asked.

Daniel sighed, and trudged over to sit across from Johnny. “Still unconscious. But according to the doctors, that’s normal.” 

“Did Carmen tell you that?” Johnny asked, looking down at his almost eaten burger. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry. In fact, he was pretty sure he could puke, if he thought about it enough. 

Daniel tilted his head to catch Johnny’s gaze, worry written in the deep furrow in his brow. “I didn’t see her. Aisha told me.” 

Johnny nodded. They sat that way for a while, Johnny trying not to puke, Daniel trying to decide what to do next. The silence was tense, sharp, but neither of them broke it. There were only so many avenues of conversation they could go down, and all of them would end poorly. Johnny wanted to ask about what would happen next, not because he cared about Daniel’s opinion, but because he was pretty desperate for someone to give him an answer. What would happen next? 

He hated change.

Finally, after a long suffering sigh, Johnny spoke. “Do you…want a burger?” 

***

Morning dawned quietly, and Robby sat on the edge of the bed in Moon’s guest bedroom, watching the sun rise. His sleep had been momentary, images of Miguel falling over the railing dominating whatever dreams he managed to have before he woke again, anxious in unfamiliar surroundings. He wondered if Moon was one of those people who got up early – Sam had been. 

He considered texting her for the thousandth time since everything happened, if only to know she was okay. He didn’t expect to get a response, but he imagined watching the message go from “delivered” to “read” would be a confirmation of things he already knew. He didn’t need to see it.

He took a deep breath and stood, unplugging his phone from the charger Moon had given him the night before. He had nothing to pack, nothing to remember. 

Moon was sitting in one of the wide chairs near the window when he made his way into the living room. She had a cup of green juice in her hand, her eyes on the garden. 

“I thought I heard you,” she said softly. “Decide what you’re going to do yet?” 

He marveled that people still thought Moon was dumb. She seemed almost annoyingly perceptive to him. Or perhaps that was the illusion she gave him, and he was just several steps behind.

“I’m going to turn myself in,” he said, the words coming out more confident than he felt them. “Better to do it and get it over with than to run. It won’t do anyone any good.” 

Moon finally turned away from the sunrise and surveyed him. “No, it wouldn’t,” she agreed. “I can take you, if you want.” 

He nodded. 

***

Eli loved training with Sensei Kreese. Kreese epitomized the word badass. But what was even cooler about him was this sense of importance, that he alone understood what would make them better fighters, better people. He didn’t behave like he was just figuring things out – Kreese spent years with everything figured out, and now he was ready to pass it on to new people. 

Kreese fueled the fire that Eli had burning in him to fight like it really mattered, like people’s lives were at stake. And weren’t they, with Miguel unconscious and gravely injured? People liked to laugh at him, tell him that his stupid mohawk and karate were all just phases, all just things that didn’t matter in the big scheme of things, but Miguel was life and death. Karate was life and death. 

Kreese understood that.

“Hey,” he caught Tory by the arm on their way out of the dojo, still damp with sweat from their hours of training. “I was thinking of going by the hospital, checking on Miguel. Do you want to come with me?” 

Tory looked down at his hand on her arm and he immediately withdrew it. He didn’t like to admit it, but Tory intimidated him to the edge of fear. He knew why he changed his hair and got a back tattoo, but he wasn’t so deep into his new persona that he forgot who Eli was, who Eli had been before Cobra Kai. Tory didn’t have an Eli. 

“No,” she said, and her mouth was a thin line. “I don’t want to be anywhere near Miguel.” 

“But –”

“I know he’s your friend, and I’m worried too, but,” she hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. “I’m not ready to see him. Not after what he did.” 

“Kissing another girl seems a little petty when he’s lying on his deathbed,” Eli pointed out. 

“Hawk, he’s not on his deathbed,” Tory retorted. 

Eli rifled through his pockets for his phone. He needed to text his mother to come pick him up. “You don’t know that,” he replied. “Since you don’t care enough to check in.” 

“I cared more about him than he did about me,” Tory snapped, turning away so sharply her ponytail almost whacked him in the face. “You shouldn’t talk about things you know nothing about.” 

“Fine,” he muttered, tapping out a message on his phone. 

He watched her stomp across the parking lot toward the bus stop, and something about the way she walked, like she was burdened with things she couldn’t talk about, reminded Eli of Sensei Lawrence. He wondered where he was. 

As much as he preferred to train with Sensei Kreese, he was concerned that Sensei Lawrence was out there somewhere, lost without Miguel and Cobra Kai to set him straight. He worried more than he’d ever admit.

***

Johnny woke up in an unfamiliar house on a bed that was mostly on the floor. He cast his eyes around the room, hoping for a clue as to his whereabouts, and found strange tapestries on the walls, a bucket next to his head, and a bottle of water beside that. He figured he understood the need for the last two items, if the pounding in his head was any indication, and before he bothered to learn anything else, he wrenched the top of the water bottle off and guzzled half of it down. 

When he was finished, he looked around again, this time with eyes that weren’t blurred from last night’s booze. The place looked like it had been recently renovated, or restored with great care. In the corner, on another table, was an apple and an orange. What the hell was that there for? 

He scrambled to his feet, the change in stance sharp enough that he barely caught the bucket before he was vomiting into it, the bile acidic and sharp in his throat. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

What did he remember? 

He remembered LaRusso sitting across from him at his favorite diner, picking listlessly at a little basket of fries. He remembered making fun of him, saying that he looked like an insecure girl on a first date, too afraid to eat fries. He remembered looking up at the hospital across the way, wishing he could go inside, knowing that his guilt was mildly assuaged knowing that even if he had the courage, Carmen would chase him back out anyway. 

He glanced down at himself. Hadn’t he been wearing pants yesterday? Now he was only in a plain shirt that was definitely too small for him and a pair of loose shorts.

The missing pieces hit him like his wave of nausea, and he bent over the bucket again, ready to catch whatever else he was going to spew. 

“LaRusso!” he shouted, seeing all of the accents of the home now in a new light. This was his dojo, wasn’t it? Out in Receda, with all of Miyagi’s accessories, his touch on everything. “LaRusso, where the fuck are my clothes?” 

He stomped into a larger room, this one with a low table in the middle of it, where there was a note waiting. 

_“Johnny._

_Left to go have Samantha discharged. Didn’t know where else to take you. I’ll come by later to give you a ride back to your place. There’s some food in the fridge, and aspirin in the cabinet in the bathroom. Please puke in the bucket._

_No I didn’t undress you. You undressed yourself._

_Daniel.”_

Johnny crumpled up the note, leaving it behind on the table. His head swam again, and even though he’d love to take a private tour of Miyagi-do’s dojo, he was suddenly reminded that he didn’t need to worry about a rival dojo anymore. He didn’t have one of his own. 

The idea ached so sharply that he retreated back to the little cot on the floor in the other room and curled up on it again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Amanda expand on their issues, Daniel and Johnny bicker (as usual), Tory has a private lesson with Kreese, Robby does the right thing, and Carmen tells it like it is, featuring Johnny in gi pants and no shirt.

Sam was used to hearing her parents argue, especially once karate became the dominant subject of the household. But most of the arguments she heard were half-hearted, small irritations about scheduling, and most of the fights would end in a deep sigh by her mother, a weak apology by her father, and the matter would be forgotten in the morning. 

This was different. 

She had been home for only a couple of hours before her mother brought up the brawl, this time with Sam on the other side of a closed door. In the hospital, she had attempted to convince Sam to press charges against Tory for the fight, but Sam had declined. As much as she wanted Tory to pay for what she did to her, and every movement of her arm reminded her of it, she knew that Tory’s reason for starting the fight still came down to her. It was still her fault that Tory had come to fight her in the first place. 

It didn’t seem right to force her to be charged with a crime they both technically committed. 

But her mother was stubborn, and now she was appealing to her dad for help overruling Sam’s initial decision. 

“She put Sam in the hospital,” she was saying, and Sam rose from her seat on her bed, _As I Lay Dying_ forgotten on the bedspread (she still hadn’t managed to finish it, and doubted she ever would. “Surely that warrants pressing charges. That girl is a menace.” 

“Sam said she didn’t want to,” her father’s voice was heavy, tired. Sam felt guilty the moment she heard it. If only the fight hadn’t happened, then her dad would be happy again. He would still be doing karate, she would still be doing karate. Their problems would be superficial. Now they just seemed unfixable. “We should respect her choice.” 

“Daniel, sometimes you have to overrule your children because you’re the parent,” her mother insisted. “We know best.” 

“And maybe we do know best, most of the time,” her dad was trying to keep his voice calm, but Sam could hear the undercurrent of unsaid anger. “But think about it. Sam participated in this fight too, didn’t she? That would open her up to her own charges. Do you want your daughter put in juvenile detention?” 

“She’s the victim here –”

“We don’t know how a court would see it,” her father replied. “If they don’t see it that way, we can’t just take it back. Pressing charges is opening a whole can of worms –”

“That you don’t want to open,” her mother interrupted. “Because you feel guilty.” 

“How I feel has nothing to do with this,” there was the anger, bubbling up. Sam considered opening the door, putting a stop to the conversation, but still, she listened. “I’m trying to protect Sam.” 

“Yeah, a fine job you’ve done of protecting her,” her mother sounded either on the edge of tears or a shout. “Getting her back into karate was the worst thing you could have done for her.” 

“How many times do you want me to apologize, Amanda? What else do you want me to do?” 

Sam pulled away from the door, suddenly wishing she hadn’t decided to listen to the argument at all. She quietly settled back into her bed and pushed her AirPods into her ears and cranked up music to drown out the yelling. 

She didn’t want to hear anymore. 

***

Johnny was sitting on the porch when Daniel pulled up, late in the afternoon. Daniel watched him from the relative privacy of his car, trying to decide if he wanted to go inside the house, to inspect what Johnny could have ruined in his time alone, or if he wanted to plead ignorance and keep the day from getting worse. 

Responsibility pulled him out of the car, and he gave Johnny a cursory look as he passed him into the house. He wasn’t sure he was fit for whatever argument Johnny would have for him today. Not after Amanda. 

“Did I really undress myself?” Johnny had followed him into the house, his footfalls surprisingly quiet on the floor, and Daniel jumped in spite of himself. 

“You insisted,” Daniel said blandly. “Almost cracked your head open on the bathroom counter trying to take your wet jeans off, but you wouldn’t accept help.” 

“Good,” Johnny said, mostly to himself. Daniel surveyed him out of the corner of his eye, dressed in Daniel’s shirt and someone else’s shorts (one of the kids, probably, but Daniel couldn’t remember and he certainly wasn’t about to tell Johnny). He still looked pallid, like he had probably puked a dozen times before Daniel arrived. 

“Did you puke in the bucket?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Johnny replied, almost proudly. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

No, Daniel thought. But he was being civil, and he was unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth. “What?” 

“Why do you have a fucking apple and an orange over there?” he pointed vaguely into the other room, and the question was so unexpected that Daniel gave a startled laugh, his eyes following Johnny’s finger. 

“Mr. Miyagi used to do it,” he explained, his eyes still searching for anything Johnny might have broken, or barfed on, during his hangover. “He would leave fruit out for a couple of days, and it would remind us to eat it.” 

“It looks like decoration,” Johnny pointed out. “Really stupid decoration.” 

Daniel shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen your apartment. You could do with an apple or an orange every now and then.” 

“Are you telling me I should eat fruit or that I should decorate my apartment with it?” Johnny asked.

Daniel shrugged, and, upon finding nothing wrong with Mr. Miyagi’s house, walked around Johnny to adjust the air conditioning and start locking up. “Both?” 

“I drink orange juice,” Johnny said defensively. 

“Is it that processed crap?” Daniel asked. “Or is it organic?” 

“Organic? What the fuck?” Johnny asked. “It’s orange, who gives a shit if it’s organic?” 

Daniel rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. 

***

Moon insisted on going inside the police station with him, maintaining that she didn’t want him to be alone, but Robby was pretty sure she was just making sure he didn’t run off again. So she followed him in, her eyes trained on her phone in the nonchalant ways that rich kids always behaved in a police station. Robby, on the other hand, was taut as a violin string, so tense he wasn’t sure he would be able to explain why he was there. 

But Moon gave him an encouraging nod, and he explained himself. The cop behind the counter looked surprised, and Robby thought he was going to ask him if he was joking, but then the surprise melted away, and he pushed a button to unlock the door beside him. 

The cops took him back to a windowless room and left him there for a while, Moon abandoned in the entry. 

She was still sitting there when he came back out, this time with a book on her lap. Robby found himself staring at the cover. _As I Lay Dying._

She glanced up as he entered. “Are we leaving?” she asked. 

He almost laughed at the bare-faced optimism. “You are.” 

She stood, her eyes going to the man behind the counter, as if it were his fault. “Why?” 

“I can only leave if I’m released into the custody of a parent or guardian,” he explained robotically, as the officer inside had done to him. “And since my mom is in rehab and my dad is unreachable, I have to stay in custody until I go before a judge.” 

Moon sighed, closing her book and putting it in her bag. “Did you call your dad?” she asked knowingly. 

“They did,” Robby tilted his head at the officer, still standing at the door, waiting for him. “No answer.” 

“I’m sorry, Robby,” Moon said softly. “I thought they’d let you go again. At least for a while.” 

Robby shrugged, and suddenly she was pulling him into a hug. “You did the right thing,” she whispered to him. “You’ll feel better now.” 

He tightened his hold on her for a moment before letting her go. He hoped she was right.

***

Afternoon found Johnny sitting in his dark apartment, ruminating over what to do next. Suddenly he regretted leaving his car at the beach, throwing his phone into the ocean. He wanted to have them for convenience’s sake, but if he had them, there would be no reason that he couldn’t be fixing his life. 

But without them, there was nothing he could do but stare at his broken television and wish he could watch Iron Eagle. 

He pulled his jug of orange juice out of the fridge and surveyed the bottle. “Tropicana,” he read. “No pulp. As it should be.” He poured himself a glass and took a gratifying, rebellious gulp, giving Daniel LaRusso and his stupid organic orange juice an imaginary middle finger as he did. Halfway through his first swallow, he realized the orange juice tasted weird. 

He glared at the bottle again, and his eyes found the expiration date. Two weeks before. 

With an annoyed growl, he spat the rest into the sink and left the carton in the sink as punishment. He washed his mouth out with a Coors and returned to his seat on the couch. 

He was still sitting there when he heard the sound of keys in the door of the apartment across the way. He listened carefully for conversation, for any clue he might receive, like a crumb, of Miguel’s condition. But he heard nothing but silence, the sound of shoes shuffling, and the closing and locking of the door. 

Johnny was, to the point of pride, reckless. He liked to think of himself as smart enough to know when self-preservation should win out over his own self-destructive form of bravery, but truthfully, often his pride won over anything else, and thus – recklessness. 

That same recklessness drove him across the way to Carmen’s door, rose his fist, and knocked. By the time the knock was done, his bravery had run out and he was about to leave when Carmen opened the door, just a large enough crack so she could see who it was. 

Her gaze met his, and she started closing the door. 

“Wait!” he said, lunging to catch the door, and stopping right before his hand made contact. He remembered, vividly, shutting the door on Daniel only two days before that, the way Daniel tried to shove it back open, the fight that followed. Carmen saw his aborted movement and took it in with raised eyebrows. “I know you hate me. I get it. There are many good reasons. I just,” he caught sight of movement behind the door and Rosa was suddenly peering out at him behind Carmen, her eyes weary from the night at the hospital, her posture slumped. Guilt washed over him again. 

He had to take a deep breath to continue. 

“I am sorry for my part in what happened to Miguel. I just wanted to teach him to defend himself so he wouldn’t get bullied.” 

“You turned him into a fighter,” Carmen snapped. 

Johnny nodded. “I did. Because I thought that’s what he needed.” 

“He needed a mentor,” she replied. “He needed someone to tell him when to walk away from a fight, not to join every one he found.” 

“I know,” he said, holding up his hands. “I know that now. I didn’t then.” 

He caught Rosa’s eyes again and realized that he was making a mistake. He wasn’t a good enough speaker to make Carmen understand what he was trying to say. But Rosa understood. Her eyes had softened, just enough that Johnny felt momentarily understood. 

“I’m not here to fight with you,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize again.” 

Carmen didn’t say anything else, but her sharp gaze told him everything he needed to know and more. She shut the door tightly in his face, and he could hear her locking it. 

***

Evening in the LaRusso household had been tense; dinner had been an independent affair that meant everyone was eating take out in their own different sections of the house: Amanda in front of the work computer, Sam in her room, where she’d been since she’d gotten home that morning, Daniel in his dojo, and Anthony in the living room, accompanied by the blaring of the television.

Daniel didn’t want to sit at the dinner table with Amanda where she could stare at him with her huge, beautiful blue eyes full of disappointment, but what he really didn’t want was for her to ask him about where he’d been the night before, and why the interior of his car was covered in sand. 

It wouldn’t make sense to explain to her why he’d gone after Johnny, and it would make even less sense once she started questioning him. But she didn’t understand karate, didn’t understand truly what it had been for him as a teenager and as an adult. She hadn’t had such an important part of herself twisted and perverted into some strange, out of control monster. 

Johnny understood, and he was the only person who understood. Who else was going to pull Johnny out of the ocean? Who else was going to care enough to try? 

She wouldn’t understand why he cared at all, and if he tried to tell her it was because they were two sides of the same coin, well, the conversation would only deteriorate from there. Johnny was the enemy, just like Tory, just like Kreese. She didn’t see the same broken man Daniel had seen. She didn’t see the shades of grey because Daniel had spent too long painting them both black and white. 

His phone skittered across the table, lighting up with Aisha’s name, the number now saved. 

“Aisha,” he said instead of hello. 

“Miguel’s awake.” 

***

“Had enough yet, Miss Nichols?” Kreese’s voice was almost mocking, and even though Tory’s chest was heaving, her muscles screaming for her to stop, she shook her head defiantly. “Good.” It was the right answer, and Kreese rewarded her by telegraphing his next kick, giving her an opening to dodge it. 

Kreese had willingly taken up Tory’s suggestion of private lessons before Cobra Kai classes began, though why he had he had never explained to Tory. She hoped it was because he realized she was his best fighter, and she wanted, no craved, to be the best in the Valley, not just the best in Cobra Kai. 

Still, his training sessions usually consisted of brutal sparring sessions that left her so sore afterward he would berate her in front of the other Cobra Kai students for falling behind. She used it as a motivator. 

They had been at this for over an hour already, the only breaks coming when Kreese had stopped her to teach her how to block a particular attack, how to respond to another. But they had been in this standoff for too long now, Kreese maintaining a steady flow of moves that Tory could barely dodge, leaving her little time to counterattack. 

“You know what to do,” Kreese prompted. “Cobras don’t rest on their laurels and play defense, do they, Miss Nichols?” 

“No, Sensei,” she snapped, her breathing labored. She took his cue and responded with a roundhouse kick that he easily blocked, hard enough that it knocked her off balance. 

He scoffed at her offended look. “Your previous training in kickboxing has left you dependent on your legs and neglecting your arms. Your kicks will not fly here.” 

Tory growled, renewing her concentration, searching for an opening. Kreese was tiring, she could tell, but she would tire before he did. His chest and face were still carefully protected, his stance constantly shifting and moving. 

She lunged for him and aimed a punch to his kidneys, which he blocked and parried with his own elbow to her stomach. She grunted and fell to her knees, where she stayed, wheezing, for a moment, waiting for him to land his (as he called it) killing blow. 

But none came. When she looked up, Kreese had already walked away from her and was wiping his face free of sweat with a white towel. He tossed her another one and she caught it, wrapping it around the back of her neck. 

“You’re sloppy,” he offered stoically, and at the look on her face, he smiled. “Did you expect praise for losing?” 

“That’s the longest we’ve ever –”

“And you still lost, Miss Nichols,” Kreese replied coolly. “The length of the fight doesn’t matter if the outcome is still a loss. Surely you remember that from your fight with the LaRusso girl.” 

“Don’t talk about her,” Tory snapped, pulling the towel off her shoulders and striding away from Kreese, toward her water bottle near the mirrors. 

“Don’t shy away from your loss,” Kreese continued, unabated. “Let your failure fill you with anger, and determination to beat her next time. Because losing to her more than once would be what, Miss Nichols?” 

“Unacceptable,” Tory replied, unscrewing the top to her water bottle. 

“You won’t lose again, will you?” 

“No, Sensei.” 

***

Daniel sat in his car, staring at the empty parking space where Johnny’s car used to be. He thought, or rather, hoped, that even after all of the dramatics of the other night, that Johnny would go back to the beach and reclaim his car. Hell, he thought he’d at least get another phone by now. But Daniel’s call went straight to voicemail, and he had to accept that even though it was perfectly in-character for Johnny to ignore his call, he wouldn’t ignore this one. 

Not when he asked Daniel to keep him informed about Miguel. 

So instead, Daniel was forced to drive over, his excuse to Amanda unnecessary since she still wasn’t speaking to him. Sam had given him a quizzical look as he scooped up his keys, but she hadn’t spoken. For that he was grateful. 

There was no way for him to know if Johnny was home unless he walked up to the door and knocked, but for some reason, still he sat in his car, the radio so quiet it might as well have been off, lost in his thoughts. 

What would Johnny want to do when he heard the news? If Daniel knew him at all, and he was pretty sure he did, Johnny would want to go to the hospital, but Carmen was sure to be there, so the trip would be useless. Would Daniel entertain going on the futile trip anyway? 

He didn’t know why he was asking, he already knew that he would. 

When he became a father, he realized that his former dream of being a hard ass as a parent was moot; he had been immediately taken in by his daughter’s eyes, and even sixteen years later, he was still powerless to deny her almost anything. Anthony suffered from much the same treatment, though it was getting easier to say no to him now that Daniel could recognize the detrimental effect it had on his growth. 

Johnny seemed to be standing at the edge of a precipice; Daniel felt almost as powerless to deny him as he did with his daughter, though for different reasons. He didn’t want to be the person who pushed Johnny over the edge of the cliff he was on, and at the moment, he was the only one who was able to offer Johnny a hand back to the other side.

It was a powerful position to be in, and while Daniel usually relished any leverage he had over Johnny Lawrence, this particular power dynamic was too dangerous for his taste. 

“Screw it,” he muttered, and pushed the car door open, jogging up to Johnny’s door and knocking before he could lose his nerve. 

Johnny answered after only a few moments, in a pair of gi pants and no shirt. Daniel narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. 

“What do you want, LaRusso?” 

Daniel, distracted by Johnny’s attire, didn’t answer. 

“LaRusso?” Johnny snapped his fingers, shaking Daniel out of his reverie. 

“Are you training?” Daniel asked instead. 

Johnny looked down at himself, like he hadn’t realized what he was wearing. “No,” he said flatly. “It’s laundry day.” 

Daniel closed his eyes, trying not to laugh. “Of course it is.” 

“Did you come by just to ogle me or did you have something to say?” Johnny asked. “Because one, gross. Two, not in a million years. Three, _gross_.” 

“You haven’t heard?” Daniel asked, ignoring Johnny’s petulant attempt to rile him up. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a phone, and my television is broken. Safe to say I haven’t heard shit.” He paused, and then a shine of recognition came into his eyes. “Is he awake?” 

Daniel nodded. “Do you want to –”

“You don’t mind?” 

Daniel shook his head, and Johnny dashed back into his house and grabbed a single shirt, hanging barely off the edge of the couch, and threw it on. “Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel is awake, Johnny finally reunites with his student. Sam is given a little wake up call. Robby is at the mercy of the system.

Johnny and Daniel drove to the hospital in silence, except for Daniel’s REO Speedwagon CD, which he’d included in his center console specifically for this purpose. He and Johnny weren’t pressed to speak; instead they just nodded their heads along with the music, content to let the silence continue as long as it had a soundtrack. 

Johnny had scrambled back inside to get dressed, throwing on a button-up shirt Daniel had never seen and a faded pair of jeans. He had stared at it for long enough that Johnny rolled his eyes at him, ever observant, on their way to the car. 

“Such a girl,” he muttered, just light enough that Daniel chuckled with him while they settled into the seats. 

But now, as the CD ended and the silence reigned for a few moments before it started back up again, Johnny shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Daniel caught the movement, anxious as he was with a sober Johnny in his car, but didn’t speak. He felt like there was an animal in the passenger seat beside him, and as long as he didn’t accidentally provoke it, there would be no trouble. 

“What other kind of music do you have in here?” Johnny asked, opening the glove compartment without waiting for an answer. Inside, there was nothing but the car’s manual, untouched since he’d gotten the Audi last year. “What the fuck is this?” 

“CDs are in the center console, where they belong,” Daniel groused, tapping his elbow on the console. Without any preamble, Johnny took hold of his elbow and moved it out of the way to get into it, his hands clammy. 

“Who puts CDs in the center console?” Johnny asked to no one in particular. “There’s a glove compartment for a reason.” 

“Glove compartment is for documents,” Daniel pointed out. “A flashlight, your insurance.” 

Johnny scoffed, and Daniel had to resist the urge to ask him if he was scoffing at the idea of putting documents in the glove compartment or if he was scoffing at the idea of having car insurance. As the man who gave him the car he left abandoned at the beach, he decided he’d rather not know.

“Springsteen?” Johnny crowed, holding up the CD on the top of the stack. “Come on, LaRusso, do you only listen to grandpa music?” 

“That’s not –” Daniel stammered, considering snatching the CD back. “Springsteen is classic.” 

“Okay, sure,” Johnny said sarcastically. “Where’s your Hall and Oates?” 

Momentarily, Daniel thanked whoever was out there listening in on this stupid conversation that he had taken out his Hall and Oates CD just a few weeks ago. He scoffed and didn’t answer. Johnny didn’t prompt him for a response, but kept digging through the stack, silently pulling out his Journey CD without comment and putting it on his lap. 

“I know this isn’t yours,” he finally said, pulling out the gold and black CD that read “CONFESSIONS” across the front. “Usher?” he asked, and he sounded more confused than horrified. “What the hell is this shit?” 

Daniel did snatch the CD back this time, his eyes still on the road. “That’s Amanda’s,” he defended weakly. 

“Your wife has terrible taste in music,” Johnny muttered. Daniel didn’t answer. He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him, watching for a reaction or a clue, he couldn’t tell. “How is she?” 

“Fine,” Daniel replied stiffly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. 

Johnny nodded, opening the Journey album and putting it in. The first song started quietly. “Angry at you, huh?” 

“I really don’t want to talk about this with you.” 

Johnny shrugged, turning to look out the window. “Fine.” 

***

Robby spent five hours in adult prison. He was told that he would only be there a short time, and he would, under no circumstances, come into contact with adult inmates, but it was a long five hours. He kept hearing people on the other side of the wall, talking amongst themselves, and strained his ears to hear a mention of his father, or even his mother. The policeman he’d spoken to initially had called them both. His mother’s rehabilitation center said the patients were strictly forbidden from receiving contact from the outside world until they had passed a certain stage of their recovery, and his father’s call had gone straight to voicemail. 

So he sat on the edge of a stone block that functioned as a bed and counted the cracks in the cement. He wondered if Miguel was alright. He wished he had thought to ask before he came here. 

He didn’t cry. He wondered if all of the stories Trey and Cruz had told him about prison were true. They loved telling him shocking stories about the nights they spent in the drunk tank, the days they spent in lock up after fights, talking about being tough so no one else decided you were an easy target, picking fights with the biggest guy in the place to assert dominance. 

It all sounded so fake now, staring at a set of iron bars with no one in sight. 

And then his five hours were up, and a friendly-faced woman from Child Protective Services was looking at him through the bars, the kind way they did that engendered more anger than any sort of reassurance. 

They were leaving, she said, and he would be going before a judge the next day. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. He let her speak, and didn’t offer any commentary of his own until they reached their destination, a group home about ten minutes from his mother’s old place. 

“What are they going to do?” he asked finally. The woman (she asked him gently to call her Laura) turned to him and gave him a pitying smile. She could have been pretty, a comforting level of pretty, if she didn’t look at him like that. But as it was, she was young, barely thirty, her wire-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of her beaky nose, her strawberry blonde hair limp and just hovering above her shoulders. And there was the maddening level of pity that strained every line of her face.

“The judge is going to listen to your side of events,” she said carefully, “and he will speak to the boy’s guardian or parent. Then he will decide if he thinks you should go to a juvenile detention center or if you should be released and follow certain restrictions.” 

“Restrictions?” 

“Curfew, community service, mandatory school attendance, things of that nature,” Laura continued. “The fact that the judge has decided to hear your case informally is a good sign. They hardly ever send juveniles to detention centers in informal cases. And, because you turned yourself in, you will likely not be seen as a danger to yourself or others.” 

“And if I’m released, where will I go?” He didn’t want to ask this woman these questions, he wanted to ask someone he knew, someone he knew he could trust. But, as she looked out through the windshield to the group home, he realized maybe she was the only one he could trust now. 

“We will keep trying your father,” she said optimistically. “If his home is suitable,” Robby almost scoffed, “You could always go with him.” 

“And if he doesn’t want me?” 

Laura furrowed her brows. “Why on earth wouldn’t he want you?” 

***

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Johnny muttered for the fourth time, trying to peek around the wall. Daniel shushed him and pushed him back into the wall, his elbow blocking Johnny’s chest. “We should just go in.” 

“Carmen won’t let you in there,” Daniel explained impatiently. “Aisha is going to text me when Carmen leaves to go get ready for her shift. Then you can go see him.” 

They both had their backs pressed against one the hospital corridor walls, staring at forgettable art that hung on walls that no one paid attention to. It felt, childishly, almost like a stealthy adventure from one of Anthony’s video games. But there was no reset, retry in this; if Carmen caught them there, the consequences would be messy. 

So Johnny leaned his head back against the wall, Daniel’s arm still over his chest, and sighed. Daniel felt the rise and fall of his strong chest. He glanced back at him, eyes searching while Johnny’s eyes were closed, and he couldn’t be caught. The lines in his brow were deep, furrowed like he was thinking, and the downturned angle of his mouth meant he wasn’t thinking anything good. 

“Aisha said it seems like he’s going to recover,” Daniel said quietly, and Johnny’s eyes opened again, catching his instantly. 

“In every way?” he asked, and Daniel faltered. “Just because he’s not paralyzed doesn’t mean he’ll forgive me.” 

“Forgive you?” Daniel tossed a glance over his other shoulder to check for any approaching people and turned immediately back to Johnny. “You weren’t the one who kicked him over a balcony.” 

“My son did,” Johnny pointed out. “I’m the one who taught Miguel karate –”

For a horrible moment, Daniel thought Johnny was going to cry. But he looked past Daniel, to something far away, and the mist in his eyes vanished. 

“Everyone who got hurt,” he continued stiffly. “It’s my fault.” 

Daniel scrutinized his face for a long time. He wasn’t sure he liked seeing this side of Johnny. He was so used to the blustering masculinity, the belligerent egotistical bully, that looking past the veneer was difficult to match with who Daniel recognized as Johnny Lawrence. Standing here, now, in the middle of a hospital hallway, with tears maybe lingering at the corners of his eyes, defeated and beaten down? That wasn’t the Johnny Daniel recognized. 

“There’s a difference between taking responsibility for what you’ve done and punishing yourself,” Daniel said finally. 

“Something Miyagi told you?” Johnny asked. 

Miyagi’s name sounded different coming out of Johnny’s mouth when he wasn’t spitting it at him. But then again, that had always been Kreese’s move, not Johnny’s. 

“Something I had to learn myself,” Daniel replied. 

Johnny stared at him, like he expected Daniel to suddenly laugh at him, or punch him. “It’s weird,” he said after a while. 

“What is?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny considered the question. “I didn’t really expect –”

“Sensei!” Aisha’s voice shook him out of his thought, and both Daniel and Johnny turned to her at the same time. “Miguel’s mom is gone. It’s just his grandma now.” 

Johnny hesitated, and Daniel had taken a few steps forward before he realized he wasn’t following. “Come on, moron,” Daniel hissed at him. “No pussying out now.” 

***

The day was almost over, and Sam’s dad wasn’t home yet. She’d seen him leave, but he hadn’t offered where he was going, and she hadn’t asked. He told her he wasn’t angry with her for the brawl at school, but there was something weighing heavily on him that Sam knew was her fault. That guilt was hard to swallow when he was looking at her with his kind, concerned eyes. 

But now that he wasn’t home, and her mom asked where he was, and no one had an answer, Sam was starting to get worried. She picked up her phone and dialed his number. 

Before the first ring, her mom stuck her head into her room. “Moon is here to visit,” she said, her voice still cool and distant. Quickly, Sam hung up. “I told her she can stay for a little while, but you need your rest.” 

She wasn’t ill, she just had stitches. But Sam didn’t want to argue. “Okay,” she said with a shrug, and then her mother was stepping out of the way and Moon was running to her side, carefully giving her a tight hug. 

“How are you?” she asked, pulling back and immediately looking down at the stitches on Sam’s arm. “I’m sorry I haven’t come by –”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam waved her off. “It really looks worse than it is. Have you heard from anyone else?” She wanted to ask about Miguel, but it didn’t seem like something she was allowed to ask anymore. It was her fault the fight had started, wasn’t it? Didn’t that make her at least partially responsible for what happened to Miguel?

Moon, sitting on the edge of her bed, shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I did hear from someone.” 

“Hawk?” Sam guessed. “I know he’s your ex, so that doesn’t really –”

“Not Eli,” Moon interrupted. “Robby.” 

“Robby?” Sam repeated. “How did you hear from Robby? No one’s heard from Robby.” 

“No one has exactly gone looking for him,” Moon pointed out. 

“He kicked Miguel over the balcony,” Sam protested, but the guilt still radiated deep in her chest, like it was berating her for blaming someone else. 

Moon fixed her with that perceptive glare that she’d adopted since Yasmin left their lives. “I think you know better than anyone that he didn’t really mean to do that.” 

“He still did it,” Sam argued. “How do you kick someone like that when the balcony is right there?” 

Moon crossed her arms and surveyed Sam closely. “I saw you throw a few under the belt moves against Tory myself,” she said shrewdly. “On a set of stairs. All of you were one bad kick away from doing the same thing Robby did.” 

Sam frowned and looked away, down to her bedspread, where she didn’t have to see Moon staring at her with a mix of pity and consternation. Moon didn’t know what it was like to fight Tory, didn’t know what it was like to stand up to someone who had gone out of their way to hurt you…

Which is exactly what Robby had been doing against Miguel, who had apparently pulled his own below-the-belt tactics at the All Valley tournament. Wasn’t it? 

“He turned himself in,” Moon continued. “Robby did.” 

“Turned himself in?” Sam asked. “How? Why? How do you know?” 

“Because I found him, sitting in a playground, crying his eyes out, after it happened,” Moon said. “He doesn’t know I saw him crying, but still.” 

She related the story to Sam, who felt perilously close to crying. It had been easier to blame a lot of the brawl’s tragedy on Robby. He had been the one who kicked Miguel over the balcony; that alone had brought karate to a new, deadly height that no one had expected. It wasn’t as important, somehow, that Tory had slashed Sam’s arm, that Dimitri had cracked a rib. None of it mattered in the wake of the more severe injury. 

But now that he had taken steps to absolve himself, now that he had done what the Robby Sam had really liked would have done, it brought all of the guilt back to her. He shouldn’t have to go through all of this just because Sam kissed Miguel. Robby had been through enough, hadn’t he?

“Sam,” Moon said, softly. “Sam, don’t cry.” 

Was she crying? She wasn’t sure. And then Moon was wiping the tears off her cheeks, and Sam was crying anew. 

***

Miguel still had his neck in a brace when Johnny walked in. But he was listening to his grandmother speak, a soft, tired smile on his face, and even though his eyes were puffy and red, they were open. Johnny thought he might fall over at the sight of him. 

Rosa glanced over at him and beckoned him over, muttering something in Spanish to Miguel, who laughed gently through his nose. 

“She says that you’re hiding from my mom,” Miguel said, his voice so raspy it was almost unintelligible. “It’s nice to see you, Sensei.” 

He offered Johnny his hand and he took it, squeezing it gently while wanting to press all of his happiness, his relief, into it. Rosa pushed a chair over to him with her foot and tilted her head at it, a clear indication that Johnny should sit. He did, never releasing Miguel’s hand. 

It was surreal, seeing him like this, when Johnny’s traitorous mind had already written him off as dead or impossible to reach. It felt like he was dreaming, one of those tender, sweet dreams that usually featured his mother, all soft words and gentle reassurances. But this was, somehow, better. Because there was hurt under the softness, enough that Johnny knew he wasn’t dreaming. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, so quietly he was sure Miguel didn’t hear him. 

Behind him, he heard Daniel whisper something to Rosa in Spanish (when the fuck did Daniel LaRusso learn Spanish?), and he, Rosa, and Aisha slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Sensei,” Miguel told him. “It was our fault. We shouldn’t have let things get out of hand like that.” 

Johnny shook his head, suddenly too heavy to even contemplate the grace Miguel had to accept his own responsibility in what could have easily been the end of his life, and dropped his head to the side of the elevated hospital bed, the better to hide his tears. He couldn’t stop them anymore, hot and wet and embarrassing, but Miguel seemed to understand. 

He felt the boy’s hand come to rest at his shoulder. 

***

Daniel tried to ignore Johnny on the other side of the glass. But he could see, even though the crack in the blinds, Johnny doubled over by Miguel’s bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs. It was bizarre, but there was something unsurprising about it. Johnny’s connection to Miguel was repairing whatever Kreese had done to him back in the 80s, by taking a boy under his wing and mentoring him the right way. Kreese had been like a father to Johnny, and Johnny was like a father to Miguel. 

A much better father than he thought he was. 

For a moment, Daniel was caught up in a sudden urge to do something for Johnny, something that would show him that Daniel saw his growth, his compassion, and that he was proud of him. But Johnny would see right through that in an instant, wouldn’t he? 

In his pocket, his phone vibrated. He slid it out enough to see Amanda’s name emblazoned across the front. With a guilty grimace, he declined the call and put his phone back into his pocket. 

“You can take the call if you want, Mr. LaRusso,” Aisha said. “I’ll wait here for Sensei Lawrence.” 

“No,” Daniel shook his head. “It can wait.” 

They stood in silence, Daniel trying not to watch Johnny through the blinds, Aisha tapping her finger on her phone screen, content texting whoever she was texting. Even though he knew Carmen was at work, he kept searching the halls for her familiar silhouette, hoping to protect Johnny from her wrath if something went awry. But no threat arrived, and he settled into just keeping an eye on Johnny. Just in case, he rationalized.

The clock above them ticked over another minute, bringing them closer to the end of visiting hours. Daniel was starting to wonder when he should tell Johnny they had to leave when his phone vibrated again. This time, it was a text from Sam. 

“Dad, call me ASAP. It’s about Robby.” 

***

It turned out to be Rosa who knocked on the door to let Johnny know visiting hours were almost up. He rose without complaint and squeezed Miguel’s hand one more time before promising to be back soon. Daniel was waiting for him in the hallway, looking at him with those big, dark eyes full of worry. Johnny thought at least the worry would have dissipated by now, but Daniel always found something to worry about. 

“What’s wrong with you, LaRusso?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “Missing family dinner?” 

“We should go,” Daniel said in lieu of an answer. “Thanks for keeping us informed, Aisha.” 

“I’ll text you tomorrow or something,” she replied. “Let you know when I learn anything new.” She turned her gaze to Johnny, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Get a new phone, Sensei.” 

“You told her?” Johnny turned to Daniel, who shrugged. 

“His phone isn’t charged only works as an excuse a few times,” he shot back. “She’s right, you need to get a new phone.” 

“Whatever,” Johnny replied. He was in too good a mood to argue with Daniel, even though that could easily be described as one of his favorite past times. “What’s got your panties in a wad?” 

“Leave my panties out of this,” Daniel muttered. 

“So you are wearing panties,” Johnny replied, spotting an elevator at the end of the hall and making his way toward it, Aisha left behind with Rosa. “Good to know.” 

“I’m not –” Daniel sighed, one of those long-suffering, exasperated sighs that Johnny always enjoyed, “Just get in the elevator. We need to talk.” 

“Is this the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk, LaRusso?” Johnny asked. “Just because I said something about your panties –”

“I found out where Robby is,” Daniel said as the doors to the elevator slammed closed. “He’s in a group home in Reseda. He goes before a judge tomorrow for assault.” 

Johnny didn’t speak, but stared at the buttons. They hadn’t pushed any of them yet, so the elevator was just sitting there, waiting to be told where to go. In truth, Johnny felt a lot like that elevator. 

“He turned himself in,” Daniel continued when he didn’t speak. “The police tried to call you, to come get him –”

“But I didn’t have a phone,” Johnny replied quietly. “So fucking stupid.” 

“You didn’t know –”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your Miyagi-do kids, LaRusso. I knew my kid kicked my student over a balcony and instead of learning anything about my son, I threw my phone into the ocean. You trying to tell me that’s a good father move?” 

Daniel didn’t speak, but leaned over, in front of Johnny, and pushed the lobby button. The elevator lurched violently, and Daniel had to catch Johnny around the upper arm to keep him from tumbling into the wall. 

“We can go to the courthouse tomorrow,” Daniel offered. “You can be there for him starting tomorrow.” 

Johnny didn’t speak, and Daniel’s hand around his arm tightened before releasing him. 

“That is, if that’s something you want.” 

“You don’t have to do this for me, LaRusso,” Johnny said quietly. 

“Who said I was doing this for you?” Daniel answered, the answer so open, so honest, that Johnny glanced up at him. He was already looking at him. “Robby was my student. You’re not the only one who abandoned him this time.” 

“Tomorrow?” Johnny asked. 

“I’ll pick you up.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawk is starting to realize that training with Kreese isn't all it's cracked up to be; Daniel and Amanda have a discussion about his recent comings and goings, and Johnny finally gets a new phone.

Eli couldn’t remember when trainings with Kreese had lost their appeal. It seemed, as Kreese circled him on the mat, that they had never been anything more than adrenaline-fueled hours of fear, and that his body had mistaken the adrenaline for fun. Because what he felt now, roiling in the pit of his stomach, was unmistakably terror. He kept his eyes on the man, knowing that he would be punished for going this long without attacking, but he hadn’t seen an opening yet. 

Sensei Lawrence had taught him to look for an opening and then to capitalize on it. 

He squashed his other sensei’s name back. It would do him no good to think of Sensei Lawrence when he was training with Kreese. It was almost like Kreese could tell when any of his students were using a technique that Sensei Lawrence had taught them. And then he found out, you would be punished. “We do not fight like weaklings,” he’d say over you while you did pushups on your knuckles. “We fight like men.” 

Kreese dropped his left arm just enough, and Eli lunged, capitalizing on the opening he’d spotted. But it was, as always, a trap that Kreese had set for him, and two kicks later, he was on his back on the mat, wheezing, trying to catch his breath. 

“What did we learn?” Kreese asked the students, who were watching at the edges, still and silent as soldiers. 

No one spoke. Tory, at the corner, had her eyes on Eli, the furrow in her brow telling him sternly to get up. He heaved another breath, trying to make it mean something to his gasping lungs, and shook his head. 

“If you realize that your opponent is content to sit on his laurels and wait for you to make a mistake, then the best thing you can do is pretend to make a mistake. Provoke him into making his own. And then strike.” Kreese dropped to one knee beside Eli, as if to hit him in the chest again. Eli flinched away from it. 

“Cobras don’t flinch,” Kreese growled, and stood again, leaving Eli behind on the mat, tense and waiting for another attack that might or might not come. When Kreese left the mats, leaving the students behind, Tory vacated her place by the mat and knelt by his side. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, worry etched into the lines of her forehead. “He hit you hard.” 

“He always does,” Eli tried to chuckle, but it came out a pained grimace. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Come on,” Tory stood, offering him her hand. He took it and allowed her to pull him completely to his feet. She glanced around the room, where the rest of the students were packing up their stuff, content that the lesson was over and they’d dodged their own beating. “Have you heard anything from anyone?” 

“You mean Miguel?” Eli asked shrewdly. Tory looked away, to the cubbies, where everyone was chatting. “He’s awake, and he should be okay, but that’s all I know.” 

“And Sensei Lawrence?” she asked. “Anything?” 

“Nothing,” Eli shrugged. “I don’t think he’s coming back.” 

Tory tossed a glance over her shoulder to where Kreese was sitting, behind Sensei Lawrence’s desk. “Maybe that’s for the best.” 

He couldn’t tell if she meant that it was for the best because Kreese would hurt him if he returned, or if that was for the best because she really preferred Kreese’s own extra tough brand of Cobra Kai teachings. Either way, he was afraid to ask her what she meant, just in case she gave him the answer he feared. 

He grabbed his shoes and bag and left immediately after, suddenly eager to be away from the dojo and Kreese’s penetrating gaze. He put his shoes on in the dark parking lot, right before he slid into the passenger seat of his mom’s car. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his texts until he found Aisha.

***

It was almost midnight by the time Daniel made it back to Encino. After he and Johnny discussed attending Robby’s hearing the next day together, he’d taken him to a Sprint store nearby to force him into buying a phone. After much grumbling and dismissing of the sales associate, Johnny picked a silver flip phone, one that Daniel almost begged him not to choose. 

“Does it even have texting?” he’d asked. 

“I’m not a teenage girl, LaRusso,” Johnny had replied, flipping the phone open and closed experimentally. “I don’t need all of the extra shit like you do.” 

“But you do need some –”

“If I say it has texting, will you get off my dick about it?” 

His phone did, in fact, have texting, but since he’d thrown his other phone into the ocean, it didn’t have his SIM card, which meant he had no one’s number in his phone except for Daniel’s and now Aisha’s. 

He parked his Audi in the driveway, his eyes rising to the kitchen light, visible through the window. That meant Amanda was still awake, which meant she was waiting for him. 

To buy himself some time, he shot off a text to Johnny. “Tomorrow, I’m picking you up at 8. You better not be hungover.” 

He watched the text send and stared at it for a moment. It hadn’t taken him long to type it out, and suddenly, the text hadn’t been enough of a delay; now there was no reason he couldn’t get out of the car and go inside. And then his phone pinged. 

“New fone, who dis.” 

Daniel laughed in exasperation. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Then –

“Thats what the kids say I think.” 

He stared at his phone for another moment, trying to think of something to say. He came up empty; that was how he felt most of the time when thinking about Johnny Lawrence these days. Everything he thought he knew about him was either wrong or blown out of proportion. The Johnny he’d known in the past few days wasn’t the rich, snobby prick he’d known in high school, or the grungy, belligerent middle-aged version he’d met a few months ago. 

No, this Johnny was deeply hurt, and trying very hard to act like he wasn’t. But in that hurt, Daniel could see a softness that he didn’t think Johnny was capable of. Losing Cobra Kai had annihilated him, and losing it to his former mentor had been worse. But that was nothing compared to watching his surrogate son almost die at the hands of his real son. Johnny cared about those kids more than he’d like people to see, but he was getting increasingly bad at hiding his affection for them.

Annoyingly, Daniel found himself drawn to this Johnny, and wanted desperately to help him. Maybe he was really trying to help himself, trying to find some sort of healing in helping his rival become a better person. He didn’t really know. Mr. Miyagi would know. He wished, as he did almost every day, that Mr. Miyagi was still here, still able to show him some guidance. 

But he wasn’t, and Daniel was just going to have to find the path for himself. 

He started by putting his phone in his pocket and going inside to meet his wife.

***

She didn’t want to be angry. She really didn’t want to keep feeling anger wash over her in waves that threatened to knock her down. She wanted her family back. She wanted her life to go back to the way it had been before the summer. Before karate had made a reappearance. 

But even that she had mixed feelings about. Daniel so clearly loved karate more than anything else in his life; it was the thing that lit him from the inside, that made him who he was. Could she ask him to give it up when it seemed like everything else in his life was weighing him down? 

And then her eyes found the clock on wall, projecting five minutes past midnight, and the anger was back. 

Karate wasn’t the explanation for this disappearance, so what was? She’d told Daniel that karate was done, and he’d agreed. She watched him type something on his phone through the window, the light illuminating his face. He was _smiling._

She wondered, for the first time, if Daniel was having an affair. 

Why else would he be ignoring her calls, disappearing for hours, smiling at his phone when he couldn’t do karate and his daughter was injured? He never went anywhere without telling her where. It was one of the things they’d always done. A text that reminded the other where they were and when they’d be home. But he hadn’t done that this time. 

The phone lit up in his face again and he laughed, actually _laughed,_ and put the phone in his pocket, pushing the Audi door open. When he looked in the window and caught her gaze, the smile was already gone. Standing before her was the Daniel she’d been seeing the past few weeks – exhausted, brow furrowed, a ghost of himself. 

Completely different from the man sitting in the car a moment before.

“Amanda, I –”

“Where have you been?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I called you.” 

Daniel moved like he was going to take his phone out of his pocket. “Did you –”

“I find it hard to believe that you don’t know that, since you were just sending texts out in your car,” she snapped. “Since when did you become the man who sits out in his car because he can’t bear to come inside to his family?” 

“That’s not what I was doing!” To his credit, he did look horrified at the thought. “I – I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call. I was busy.” 

“Doing what?” she asked. “Where have you been all day?” 

His face momentarily hardened. “Considering you weren’t speaking to me this morning, forgive me if I find it hard to believe that you cared.” 

She tightened her jaw and uncrossed her arms, leaning onto the kitchen counter. “Why are you deflecting?” she asked. “Just tell me where you were.” 

Daniel didn’t answer, but turned away from her to shed his jacket and put his keys in the bowl. She watched him go through the motions carefully, looking for a clue that would give her a new tactic to employ. What else could she do? He pulled his phone out of the pocket, pressed the button on the side, and checked the display for messages before slipping it into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Who were you texting?” she asked. “Out in the car.” 

“You were watching me? _Jesus,_ Amanda,” Daniel breathed. “I was just gone for a few hours. It wasn’t that important.” 

“It’s important to me!” she was shouting now, but Daniel didn’t recoil from it like he usually did. He just squared his shoulders, as if he’d expected this. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was,” he said, and his voice was soft, genuine. “I really didn’t think you’d want to know, you were so angry at me before.” 

“Where were you?” she asked again. “I’m tired of asking.” 

“I was at the hospital,” he said plainly, finally. “Miguel woke up.” 

She blinked. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, that wasn’t it. “You were visiting Miguel?” she asked. 

He nodded, but his eyes dropped to the floor, and the rush of certainty that overtook her was staggering. He was _lying._

“You’re lying,” she said flatly. “Who were you with?” 

His eyes jumped back to hers, guilty. Perhaps he was having an affair, his reactions all but confirmed it. She wanted to ask him outright, force him to admit that she was right in her assumptions, but she didn’t dare. Maybe she just didn’t want to hear the truth. 

“Daniel, who were you with?” she said again, her words hushed so the kids wouldn’t hear her. Suddenly, she felt brave. “If you’re having an affair –”

 _“What?”_ he flinched at the idea, his big brown eyes wide and hurt. “How could you think that?” 

“Look at you!” she exclaimed. “Coming in late at night, no one knows where you were, smiling at your phone, you won’t tell me what you were doing or who you were with –”

“I was with Johnny Lawrence, okay?” he snapped. “I took him to see Miguel.” 

He glared at her, maintaining the eye contact out of sheer spite, daring her to call him a liar. The return of his temper alone told her he was truthful. She didn’t want to believe him. Why would he do anything for Johnny Lawrence, the teacher of the kids that hurt his daughter? It didn’t make sense. 

“Why.” 

He explained the whole thing to her, starting with Aisha’s phone call the night that Sam spent in the hospital, finding Johnny on the beach, and everything since. He never said why he did it, just the chronological order of events, and after years of listening to Daniel’s colorful embellishments to stories involving Johnny Lawrence, the lack of details now was telling. 

“You still haven’t explained why,” she pointed out when he was finished. 

“You still haven’t told me why you think I’d cheat on you,” he snapped back, his hands tight in fists. “I was gone for one day. A few hours, even, and that’s the first thing you jumped to.” 

“I explained why –”

“I understand why you’d be angry at me,” Daniel continued over her, his face flushing as his anger increased. “I completely understand why we argued before, I understand your side of things. I see why you’d be upset or worried when I didn’t come home. What I don’t see is when I managed to lose all of your trust.” 

She didn’t speak, but looked down at the polished counter. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d been worried about their relationship ever since he opened his dojo; she certainly didn’t want to tell him that she was pretty sure he’d throw away their entire marriage for that stupid little rivalry. She didn’t want to tell him that, lest she make it come true. 

Her silence wasn’t satisfying enough; when she looked up, Daniel was pulling on his jacket again and turning away from her. 

“I think I’m going to stay at Miyagi’s tonight,” he muttered, and the sentence was so emotionless, so defeated, that she didn’t even try to stop him when he left. 

***

The bed at Miyagi’s house still smelled like Johnny – a little bit like the ocean, a little bit like booze, and the lingering smell that was distinctly Johnny. Daniel settled into it, thinking through his argument with Amanda. It had surprised him, how angry and startled he’d felt when she accused him of having an affair. 

How could she think that of him? It was inconceivable that he would do something to jeopardize his family, their family. He rolled over onto his side, his eyes scanning over the home that he’d spent most of his adolescence in. He still felt more comfortable here than he ever did in Encino. There was something about this place that felt like he belonged. 

His phone pinged and his brought it up to his face, the light blinding him momentarily before his eyes adjusted. 

“What does cps look for in a ‘suitable home’?”

Daniel squinted at the question. He wished he’d thought to bring his reading glasses – they were in the desk drawer in the den, mocking him. He read Johnny’s text again, and then one more time. 

“What?” he sent back when he finally couldn’t interpret it. 

“cps. Come on, larusso, u know.” 

The lack of correct capitalization was bugging him. “I don’t,” he texted back truthfully. 

“child protetive services.” 

“Child protective services?” he sent back. 

“Fuck u, typo,” Johnny replied. “the google im reading says they check ur house to see if its suitable before they let ur kid live there.” 

The _Google_ he’s reading? Daniel felt his anger whoosh out of him in a solid laugh that propelled him upward into a sitting position. 

“You mean the article you’re reading?” 

“r u calling me a nerd?” 

He laughed again, finding it easier to laugh at Johnny’s moments of accidental hilarity when the man himself wasn’t there to glare at him until the laugh died in his throat. When the laugh trailed off, Daniel re-read the text. 

Did that mean he wanted Robby to come live with him? The fact that he was even looking it up made Daniel feel strangely proud. Johnny was a determined man – when he set his mind to something, he was usually successful (the tournament in ‘84 notwithstanding). If he was looking into how he could get his son to live with him… 

He smiled.

“hello?”

“I’m not sure about the requirements,” he sent back. “I would assume they want to know he has his own space to sleep, that your place has electricity and food and all that.” 

“cook.” 

Daniel stared down at the phone, confused. Then it pinged again. 

“i ment cool.” 

Of _course_ he did. 

He dropped his phone on his chest, the conversation apparently over. Again, his mind wandered back to Amanda. He had seen her angry plenty of times – they both had a temper – but this was different. She had already made up her mind before he even came inside that he had done something immoral, something she could label “betrayal.” 

But hadn’t he? He had kept his involvement with Johnny a secret for a reason, right? Even if he had done it subconsciously, there was still something suspicious there, wasn’t there? 

Why hide something if you didn’t have something to hide? 

_Crap._

***

Johnny stared at his phone, trying to think of what to say next. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to text LaRusso in the first place. He certainly hadn’t had enough beer to claim intoxication. Still, it soothed his nervous mind a little, bantering with LaRusso over text. He didn’t have Miguel to talk to right now, not while he was still banished from Carmen’s sight, and he had no other students with which to occupy his time. 

Daniel was the only person, so far, who had shown him even an ounce of…what? Solidarity? Attention? He didn’t know what to call it. 

He rationalized that Aisha didn’t count because he said so. There was something significant in the knowledge that his rival seemed to actually give a shit about how he was doing. The night at the beach had shifted them slightly – but to where or what he couldn’t place. 

It had been Daniel who had convinced him not to walk out into the ocean to drown. It had been Daniel who had gone up to the hospital to check on Miguel. He had been the one to drive him to the hospital, to insist that he got a new phone. He was the one who told him where Robby was. 

Where would he be without him? 

That was certainly a new thought. He deliberated on it, trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy him. Nothing came to mind.

He wondered, not for the first time, if Daniel was telling his wife about bussing Johnny around the greater Los Angeles area. He figured he would; Daniel was completely whipped by his wife. He figured that Amanda would have some pretty choice words to say to him about that, but if she did, why did Daniel keep doing it? 

He considered asking, and then he remembered how Daniel’s face had gone blank in the car when he’d asked.

Maybe he didn’t want to know.

It was annoying that Daniel LaRusso lived in his mind, rent-free, when he should be thinking about his son. But thoughts of Robby made him so anxious he thought he could be sick, so he pushed Robby from his mind and looked around the apartment, the television still broken and the glass barely cleaned up underneath it. 

With a heavy sigh, he stood and padded down the hall to the closet for his vacuum.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Daniel attend Robby's hearing.

Daniel woke the next morning with a crick in his neck. He tried to roll it out, grimacing in the bathroom mirror, fogged after his shower, but nothing he did quite worked. He rationalized it was the different bed coupled with the stress from his fight with Amanda. Still, the knowledge of why it was there didn’t make it any less annoying. He tried to stretch while he got dressed, thankful that he’d left a few spare suits in this closet from when he was rushing between the dojo and the dealership. 

He checked his reflection in the mirror before he left, a traitorous voice in the back of his head asking why his appearance really mattered.

He was parked outside Johnny’s apartment at 7:50 a.m., his hand resting absently on his to-go cup of coffee in the cupholder. He considered texting Johnny that he was there, but did Johnny have his phone on? Was it even off of silent? 

He turned the car off and trudged to the door, giving it a brief knock. Johnny opened it almost instantly, dressed in the same blazer he’d worn to the committee meeting where he’d fought for Cobra Kai’s reinstatement to the All Valley tournament. His hair was lightly gelled. His eyes were worn but alert. He didn’t look at all hungover, and for that Daniel was both grateful and proud.

“What’s wrong with you, LaRusso?” he asked, stepping out of the doorway and locking the apartment behind him. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?” 

“Shut up,” Daniel replied listlessly. “I’m just tired. I have this stupid crick in my neck…” 

“So delicate,” Johnny muttered, turning around and surveying him, one eye shut and neck tilted. “Here, let me see.” 

To Daniel’s horror, Johnny passed him his keys and immediately put his hands to Daniel’s neck, fingertips pressing against the tender skin experimentally until Daniel winced, chuckling under his breath. Daniel wanted to squirm away, to tell Johnny not to touch him, but Johnny took a half-step to the left and pressed his knuckle into the knot at the base of his neck and Daniel saw stars. A few more seconds, and he would be nothing but a puddle on the concrete. 

“How –”

“Shannon used to be a dancer,” Johnny explained, and his voice was soft, close to Daniel’s ear. “Swinging her hair back and forth all the time, she always had knots in her neck. I was doing freelance construction, so when I wasn’t on a job, I was pretty much trying to massage kinks out of her neck all day and night.” 

Daniel let his eyes close, content to listen to Johnny’s voice while he pressed his fingers into the tender spot of his neck. “Hmm…” he said quietly, just to show Johnny that he was listening. It was easy to forget everything else like this, with his eyes closed and the familiar smell of Johnny close by. It reminded him, suddenly, of the bed at Miyagi’s place, and a shiver ran through him. 

And then the fingers stopped, and Daniel was forced to open his eyes again. Johnny was looking at him curiously, one hand on Daniel’s shoulder, the other still on his neck. Daniel met his gaze, trying to decipher the look he found there. But Johnny was as inscrutable as ever, and when he blinked and looked away, Daniel was even more confused than he’d been a few moments before.

“We should go,” Johnny said finally, and his hand fell from Daniel’s shoulder, the other trailing away from his neck slowly, as if on purpose. Daniel wanted to chase it. 

But he didn’t.

***

“Let me drive,” Johnny said, holding out his hands for the keys. 

“No way I’m letting you drive an Audi,” Daniel replied. “I saw how you drove that Challenger.” 

Johnny waggled his fingers. “Can’t have you driving on the highway with a neck like that, LaRusso,” he rationalized. “How are you going to check your blind spots?” Against his better judgment, he reached up and brushed the tender spot of Daniel’s neck again with his fingers. Daniel didn’t flinch away.

“I’m not an old man –”

Johnny smirked. “Debatable.” 

“We’re the same age –”

“Age is a mindset, LaRusso. You’re old. It’s simple,” Johnny stepped toward him, into his space, and snatched Daniel’s keys out of his hand. “I’ll be super careful,” he promised sarcastically. “I’ll drive like you.” 

Daniel gave him an overexaggerated sneer, rolling his eyes for good measure. Johnny let him without pressing, knowing that the longer they argued in the shambled courtyard of his apartment complex, the more likely it was that they would be late to Robby’s hearing. He jerked his head to the car, and Daniel begrudgingly moved to the passenger side, giving Johnny time to flex the hand that had been on Daniel’s neck behind the body of the car, trying to rid himself of the feel of Daniel’s skin. 

It wouldn’t come off. 

“Why do you have a crick in your neck, anyway?” Johnny asked after several minutes of mostly comfortable silence. “Don’t you do all of that yoga crap that keeps you limber?” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I slept on it weird, that’s all.” 

Johnny pursed his lips, trying to keep a smile at bay. “If it was a sex thing, it’s fine, you can tell me.” 

_“Johnny –”_

The use of his first name pulled laughter from him; he always felt weirdly giddy when Daniel used his name. Perhaps that was why he never used Daniel’s own. 

“I’m serious,” Johnny continued, trying to keep the laughter to a minimum. But really, riling up Daniel LaRusso was his most favorite thing to do. “We’re friends, sort of. Don’t be a prude, LaRusso.” 

“It was not a sex thing,” Daniel insisted, his face bright red. 

“Okay, hotshot, whatever,” Johnny relented, another laugh sneaking out when Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “Stop pouting, you look like a child.” 

“Am I old or am I a child?” Daniel threw up his arms in exasperation. “Make up your mind.” 

“That depends,” Johnny pretended to think seriously about it. “Do you throw your back out during this sex that didn’t give you a crick in your neck?” 

“It wasn’t sex!” Daniel protested again. “I slept at Miyagi’s place, alright? The pillows are…subpar.” 

Johnny’s smile faded, and he turned his gaze more completely to the road. Daniel, beside him, fidgeted, like it was personally causing him pain not to speak. Johnny hoped he would endure the pain instead of filling the silence. As usual, his hopes were dashed. 

“Amanda didn’t know that I was…” he trailed off, and Johnny almost looked over at him. Didn’t know what? What word was he going to use? “Hanging out with you.” 

“She kick you out?” Johnny was surprised. Amanda seemed the more level-headed half of their marriage. He must have underestimated her hatred of him. Again, he felt guilty. 

“I left,” Daniel corrected. “I came home last night and – and she was accusing me of all kinds of crazy things, and I couldn’t take it anymore. So I said I was going to stay at Miyagi’s for the night.” 

“Just one night?” Johnny asked. He wanted to ask what she had accused him of, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Daniel looked like he didn’t want to tell. 

“I don’t know,” Daniel sighed. “I don’t know yet.” 

Johnny considered apologizing for upending Daniel’s life. He glanced over at him, all perfect hair and pristine suit, bags under his eyes. He looked like he’d had a shit night. He should apologize. He opened his mouth to say the words, but nothing would come out. He wondered if Daniel would believe him even if he apologized. 

“It’s not your fault,” Daniel intercepted. “I’m the one who didn’t tell Amanda what I was doing. We’ve been having issues since I opened up the dojo.” 

Johnny raised his eyebrows but didn’t speak. He was afraid that if he interrupted Daniel, the conversation would shift to something else, and he really wanted to hear what Daniel had to say. 

“I spent too much time there and not enough time at the dealership. She was taking on most of the work, which was terrible, I know,” he held up his hands like Johnny was going to interrupt him. Johnny almost smiled. “But once I got to start teaching karate –”

Johnny broke his own promise to keep silent. “I get it.” 

“Yeah,” Daniel looked down at his lap, and even from his peripherals, Johnny could see the faint smile there. “But after this fight –”

“She wants you to stop karate,” Johnny finished. “It makes sense.” 

Daniel’s gaze came up to the side of his face, where Johnny could feel it burning into his skin. “She’s not wrong. We’ve done nothing but ruin each other’s lives since I started Cobra Kai. We thought we were doing good things for these kids, but were we, really? We turned some of those kids into little assholes –”

“Speak for yourself –”

“Okay, yeah, I turned _some_ of those kids into little assholes,” Johnny corrected, rolling his eyes. They were getting off the highway, about two blocks from the courthouse. He could feel the nerves taking flight in his belly. “But we also really helped some kids too. And, you know, I hate to say it, but those kids helped us.” 

“Probably more than we helped them.” 

Johnny laughed, and crossed his hand over the center console to take gentle hold of Daniel’s forearm. He felt the other man go still, as if trying to decide how to react. He ran his thumb over the muscle there, a soothingly slow movement, and then took his hand back. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but it seemed, in the moment, as natural as breathing. 

“Robby told me that we could learn a lot from each other,” Johnny said, finally breaking the silence. Daniel exhaled a laugh, and Johnny knew he was agreeing with him. 

“If only we figured that out before.” 

Johnny turned the Audi into the parking lot and stopped the car, content that he could finally look at Daniel properly, without worrying that the other man was about to scold him about keeping his eyes on the road. Was he imagining it, or did Daniel look a little less worn out than he did before? 

He watched Daniel’s eyes rove over his face, as if looking for confirmation of some unspoken promise. He wanted to leave this moment alone, to be mature for once. It finally felt like he and Daniel were making progress, maybe even becoming friends. 

His immaturity won. “Jesus, LaRusso, take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

“You’re such a _dick._ ” 

***

Robby hadn’t asked Laura to come to the hearing; she had insisted that she would, promising that he wouldn’t be in the room alone when the judge announced his punishment. He could see that she felt pity for him, probably more than she should, given her job description, but no amount of gentle persuasion would convince her that he didn’t really want her there. Truthfully, he wanted someone he knew there. Moon was probably his only friend now, if she even considered herself one. He wouldn’t have minded having her there. 

The absence of Mr. LaRusso and Sam ached more when he thought about it like that. 

He tried not to think about his dad. Clearly Johnny wanted nothing to do with him – why else wouldn’t he answer his phone the thousands of times that the police had called, that Laura had called? It was typical of him, but Robby couldn’t help but remember sitting in his car the first day of school, with his backpack on his lap, and seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He had been trying. When had that changed? 

When he kicked Miguel over a balcony, he told himself. 

“The judge is ready for you,” Laura said softly, as if trying to gently shake him from his reverie. He glanced up at her but didn’t speak. There was nothing for him to say. 

He didn’t look at anyone when he walked into the little courtroom. Television hadn’t prepared him for how anti-climactic of a room it was. This was only a local judge, in an informal hearing about a juvenile delinquent. The walls were an off-shade of yellow, as if the real color had faded years before, the chairs worn and cracked. 

There were people sitting in them, but Laura whispered to him that they could be waiting for the next case after his, so he shouldn’t bother paying them any attention. That’s how local court went, apparently. Quickly and efficiently. 

The judge was a slight Asian woman, her hair so long and shiny that it blended in with her robe. She read from her file, outlining all that Robby had confessed to, and explained that she had two options. Truthfully, all Robby could hear was a whooshing sound in his ears, so he missed most of it. Laura, beside him, was listening attentively. He hoped she’d elbow him if the judge said something important. 

He caught the words “mother of the victim” and snapped his eyes back up to the judge. 

“Would you like me to repeat that, Mr. Keene?” 

“Yes,” he said, and at Laura’s prodding, “Your Honor.” 

“The mother of the victim has told the court that she wishes us to take into account that you were defending yourself when the incident occurred. What happened did not happen on purpose.” 

He exhaled, so much he felt his body crumble over with the loss of mass, but somehow, stayed upright. The judge watched him curiously, her brown eyes behind her glasses bright and intelligent. 

“It has also come to the court’s attention that the victim is on track to make a full recovery,” she said, her eyes barely straying down to the paper to read the information. 

Relief almost bowled him over. Whatever he was expecting the judge to say, that wasn’t it. He covered his face with his hands, the better to hide the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. The room shifted, as if the people in the chairs behind him recognized the gravity of this announcement, and Robby had to clear his throat to get focused again. 

When he looked up, the judge was looking down at him with kind eyes. 

“Mr. Keene, I see quite a few juvenile assault cases come across my desk in a given month,” she said. “I have cultivated a radar that tells me when a kid is troubled, when they’ve been wrongfully accused, or when they really just need a second chance. I like to call it my bullshit radar.” 

The room tittered, and the judge peered over her glasses at the source of the sound. 

“Perhaps that’s not appropriate,” she relented. “I think you, Robby Keene, need a second chance. Because of the severity of the victim’s injuries, I can’t let you leave here without some restrictions, but I can tell you that you are not going to a juvenile detention center.” 

Laura, beside him, clapped a hand on his arm. Someone in the crowd shifted. Robby didn’t dare move. 

“You will be asked to attend school with no more than three missed days in a semester,” she began, looking down at her paper again. “You will be set a curfew of 10 p.m., and you will have to join an extra-curricular activity to keep you focused.” 

She glanced up at him again. He felt, momentarily, like he was being x-rayed. 

“Your school records indicated a past of truancy and violence,” she pointed out. “That all stopped a few months ago. What changed then, would you say?” 

Robby frowned, trying to think of when he stopped getting into trouble. The last time he could remember being reprimanded was right before he found Mr. LaRusso. Before he started karate. It was ironic, that his own disdain for his father had accidentally made his life better.

“I started doing karate, Your Honor,” he said truthfully. “And I got a job.” 

The judge scrutinized him again. “I would like you to continue karate, Mr. Keene. Apparently it helped.” 

That didn’t make any sense to him. Hadn’t karate, on paper, almost killed Miguel? Hadn’t it ruined his life? “Your Honor,” he interrupted. “Karate is what got me into this mess. And I don’t have a trainer anymore.” 

“Karate did not make you hurt someone, Mr. Keene,” the judge said sternly. “Your poor judgment did that. We do not criticize the weapon for something the mind chose to do. Karate can help you stay focused, and can give you an outlet for anger or frustration. But no more fights outside of the…gym?” 

“Dojo, Your Honor.” 

“Find a new trainer, if you have to,” she said. “The mandate stays. Thank you, Mr. Keene, you may go.” 

She slammed the gavel onto the podium, and Robby flinched. 

***

The first time Johnny locked eyes with Robby was in the hallway outside of the courtroom. He was listening to something a sallow blonde woman was saying to him, but his eyes were jumping around the room, like he couldn’t figure out what to focus on. And then they landed on Johnny, and flicked over to Daniel, who was standing beside him. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asked, and even though he was across the hallway, Johnny knew he was talking to him. People leaning against the walls, sitting in chairs, waiting for their turn in court, glanced up warily, then looked back down to their phones. 

Johnny wasn’t sure what to say. I heard you had a hearing today? I wanted to see if you were okay? Were any of those lines true, or was he here to assuage a heavy guilt he couldn’t escape with drink? 

“It doesn’t matter,” Robby said when he didn’t speak. “I don’t want you here. Either of you.” 

“Robby –” Daniel’s voice was wounded, fragile and openly hurt. Johnny shut his eyes against the sound. 

“Are you Robby’s father?” The blonde woman turned to Daniel, and Johnny could have laughed. Of _course._

“He is,” Daniel indicated Johnny, who ducked his head before forcing himself to make eye contact with the woman. 

“We’ve been trying to reach you –”

“It doesn’t matter, Laura,” Robby’s cold voice cut in. The woman’s name, the same name as Johnny’s mother, hit him like a gut punch. What would she think of him now? 

“My phone was…broken,” Johnny finally spoke. “Robby –”

“You _left_ me,” Robby snapped, his voice rising to almost a shout. He cast his eyes around the hallway and went quiet. “Again.” 

“We didn’t know –” again, Daniel was trying to help him out, and it wasn’t working. 

“You could have called,” Robby pointed out. “You could have tried to find me. You don’t get to come in now and act like you’re the victim.” 

“Come train with me,” Johnny said earnestly. “I can show you –”

Robby was on the edge of tears now, Johnny could see them shining in his eyes. He looked away, knowing that if he looked too long, he would cry too. 

“How many chances do you think you’re going to get, Dad?” Robby asked. “Haven’t you broken enough?” 

“Robby!” Daniel admonished sharply. “We came here as soon as we found out where you were. We came to take you home. To – to your dad’s place.” 

“CPS would need to do a home inspection,” Laura stepped in, a hand on Robby’s arm. “And being with a parent is always the goal,” she said, almost to Robby alone. 

“I don’t trust him,” he said, his eyes on Johnny. 

He felt like he was drowning in a wave of anger; Johnny clenched his hand into a fist and released it, hoping to get some of the tension out. But it wasn’t working. He could hear the sounds of room rising, the sound of his breath loud in his own ears. It was akin to being publicly scolded by Kreese in front of his friends when he’d been a teenager. 

Shame. He was feeling shame. 

“I’ll be better,” he said, and his voice was so desperate, so broken, he felt Daniel behind him turn toward him. “I’ll be better for you.” 

Robby didn’t answer, but stalked away from them both, leaving Laura staring curiously at Johnny, and Daniel trying to decide whether to stay with Johnny or to go after Robby. 

***

In the end, it was Laura who went after Robby; she said it was probably for the best. Daniel secretly agreed. He wasn’t sure Johnny could take anymore of what Robby had to say. They drove back to Johnny’s apartment in silence, the light banter of the first half of their trip a haunting specter in the backseat. 

Daniel didn’t even point out that Johnny was speeding, swerving between lanes on the highway. He wasn’t sure how he’d take it. Maybe it was making him feel better. 

Since Johnny was still driving, Daniel had the opportunity to survey him without being caught. His jaw was tight, so tense that he could see the muscle jumping where his teeth kept clenching. His hands, on the steering wheel, were white-knuckled, his left leg bouncing. 

He knew Johnny was itching for a drink – that was exactly what he didn’t want him to do. This was what Johnny did – any sort of turmoil led him to a bottle, and he would be a mess for three days straight. They couldn’t afford that now, not when Johnny wanted Robby to live with him, when CPS needed to do a home study. 

So when they pulled into Johnny’s apartment complex, Daniel followed him out of the car to the door. 

“Go away, LaRusso,” Johnny muttered, fumbling with his keys. 

Daniel shook his head. “No, sorry.” 

Johnny looked back at him, eyes dark. “Go the fuck away, LaRusso. I’m not going to say it again.” 

“I’m not going to let you drink yourself stupid,” Daniel said adamantly. Johnny’s lips quirked upward in a smirk, but what it meant was lost on Daniel. “That’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it?” 

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked. 

“Maybe,” Daniel admitted. “But you said you wanted Robby to live here –”

“Stupid,” Johnny muttered, pushing the door open so hard it slammed against the wall behind it. 

“It wasn’t stupid,” Daniel insisted, following after him and shutting the door. The apartment was spotlessly clean, the tracks of the vacuum still prominent in the carpet. How painful it must be, he realized, for Johnny to come home to a place he readied for the son who just rejected him. He felt the pain himself, deep in his chest. He could only imagine how it felt for Johnny. 

“It was fucking stupid,” Johnny muttered, going to the fridge and pulling out a beer. Daniel could see that it was full of food – actual food, and had to push back another wave of sorrow. “I should have known he wouldn’t want to come here.” 

“It’ll take time –”

“He fucking _hates_ me, LaRusso, and he should,” Johnny popped the top on the beer and took a long gulp, Daniel watching him warily. 

“He’ll come around.” 

He knew that this conversation with Johnny was going to go poorly; he was prepared for that. He knew Johnny was far more emotional than he allowed people to know, and putting himself out there for Robby had been a vulnerable move. One that hadn’t paid off. 

What he hadn’t expected – 

Johnny threw the beer bottle, beer and glass exploding throughout the tiny kitchen. Daniel winced, covering his face to protect himself from the debris. Johnny used the opportunity to grab him by the shirt and force him toward the door. 

“Get the fuck out,” he growled. “I don’t want you here.” 

“I don’t care,” Daniel snapped, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you want, Johnny, because all you want right now is to make things worse.” 

The first punch caught him in the gut, and he doubled over, his head almost resting on Johnny’s chest. The second, he was prepared for. He blocked it and moved away from the wall, his arms up, ready. 

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, his left arm blocking a wild swing. 

“Then get out of my apartment,” Johnny sneered. 

“No, I won’t do that either,” Daniel said, his eyes on Johnny’s fists. He wanted to explain that he was doing this for Johnny, because he cared, but wouldn’t that just make things worse? No matter what he said, Johnny would see it as pity, that Daniel thought he was better than he was. But that wasn’t true either. There was something about Johnny’s hard-to-find vulnerability that Daniel thought was brave, once you got past the posturing and unnecessary cussing. 

Johnny was a fighter, through and through, and he’d been that way since he joined Cobra Kai when he was a teenager. That was how he chose to adjust to the difficulties of his life. And it worked for him, most of the time. Push through and come out the other side. Daniel, on the other hand, had always been a defender, a protector. Sometimes he was defending himself, but most of the time, he was defending other people. 

This time, he felt like he was protecting Johnny from himself. 

He settled into a routine, blocking whatever blows Johnny tried to send his way. It wasn’t long before Johnny tired himself out, his swings half-hearted and wild. When he was finally exhausted, Daniel caught one of his fists and held it, pushing Johnny back until his shoulders hit the front door. 

“You have to stop,” Daniel panted. “I’m just trying to help.” 

“I don’t want your help,” Johnny struggled against him, forcing Daniel to push him harder into the door, forearm across his chest, knee against his leg. 

“I know,” Daniel said. “I know, and it’s fine.” 

And then Johnny was crying, the fight leaving him suddenly and completely, and he sagged against the door, Daniel barely catching him before they both went tumbling to the floor. He sat there, arms around Johnny, his blond head on his shoulder, the sobs so complete that he almost missed it when he said _“Daniel,”_ and clutched him harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was quite sad, wasn't it? Sorry this is so much angst, I am trying to work us toward a place where there is less, but these poor characters have a lot of baggage they need to start working through. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the hearing.

Robby realized, the moment the door of Laura’s car closed on him, that he’d made a terrible mistake. It was easy, letting all of his hurt free, weaponized in the direction of his father, but that didn’t account for the sad, lonely part of him that really wanted someone he knew in his corner. Laura didn’t say anything to him, content to let him cool off, and drove in silence, while Robby’s adrenaline and anger slowly seeped out of him. 

He could be in a car with Mr. LaRusso and his dad right now, on the way to his own place, with a father. 

He was _so good_ at messing everything up. He leaned his head against the window, watching street signs pass him by, and tried to do what Mr. LaRusso taught him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to center himself, tried to connect to his own truth, unbiased by anger and hurt. 

“I’m going to let my superiors know to prepare a home inspection for your father,” Laura mused quietly, pulling Robby out of his haphazard meditation. “I know you’re angry at him –”

“Thank you,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that. He was trying to help.” 

Laura tutted under her breath, turning down the radio to silence. “You’ve had a very stressful few days,” she pointed out. “I think you needed a way to blow off some steam. You can always apologize to him.” 

Robby nodded, but he wasn’t sure he believed her. He could apologize to his father, but would Johnny believe him? Would he be willing to take him in after that? 

He waited until Laura was gone and he was in his room, shared with two other boys, before he pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text to Moon, wondering absently as he did if she would even respond. Perhaps she figured her momentary friendship with him was a transactional one. She did something nice for him, now she was done. 

But her response was immediate, and he smiled in spite of himself. His newly imposed curfew was in two hours, which gave him enough time to meet Moon far away from this place. In the time since the fight, he felt like he’d been reborn somehow, fresh without anything to his name. That much was true, in the way of physical belongings and friends. 

But the emotional baggage, he thought wearily, gathering his phone and picking up his keys. That was always still there. 

Moon met him at a little diner three blocks from the group home. He found her in a corner booth, her hair up in two little space buns, tendrils floating down over her neck. She grinned at him when she spotted him, and Robby felt, for a minute, lighter. 

“I got you a milkshake,” she said after she gave him a tender hug, her typical scent of patchouli engulfing him. “I know you said you weren’t hungry –”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, and her eyes shined back at him.

He wasted no time in telling her about the hearing, how he couldn’t understand how he’d gotten so lucky, how his father and Mr. LaRusso showed up, the fight that followed. She took in the whole story with open, vulnerable eyes, a concerned furrow in her brow. 

When he was finished, she gently took his hand across the table. 

“I’m sorry that you’ve been through hell,” she said. “I really am. But so has your dad. Maybe living with him, talking with him, it could help you both.” 

He wanted to say she was naïve, too optimistic, but he found himself nodding along with her instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she was naïve or optimistic. He just really wanted to believe her. She seemed to believe in him, and those sorts of people were in short supply. 

“Call your dad,” she prompted, squeezing his hand before taking it back. 

“I don’t have his number anymore,” he admitted. “But I do have Mr. LaRusso’s.” 

She nodded her approval, and he typed out a quick message and sent it. 

***

Daniel’s phone, against his hip, buzzed. He glanced down at his pocket, trying to decide if he should bother to check it. Johnny was asleep, just barely snoring, his body half on top of him. In the aftermath of their fight, Daniel managed to convince him to come sit down, breathe, talk it out. 

He hadn’t really thought the attempt would be successful – Johnny was never a _talking it out_ kind of person. Instead, he’d forced Johnny onto the couch, where he spent a long time crying, talking incomprehensibly about Robby, Shannon, his mother, Sid, Kreese. People that Daniel soon couldn’t distinguish between sobs and muffled speech. 

Still Daniel did nothing but hold him and run his fingers through his hair, a tactic he’d gotten from his mother. Johnny didn’t ask him for his input, didn’t tell him to leave. He took it as a sort of win, though he wasn’t sure there were any winners here. 

Soon Johnny had drifted into a fitful sleep, his head on Daniel’s lap, arm flung over his legs, and Daniel was well and truly stuck to the couch. 

He figured he was supposed to feel weird about this, but what struck him as even odder was that he really didn’t feel that weird at all. Having Johnny laying over his lap was a comfortable, familiar weight that made him feel a little less useless. A little less alone. 

He glanced down at Johnny’s sleeping face, eyelashes splayed across his cheek far more delicately than Johnny would have liked, his brow furrowed as if dreaming. Without thinking, Daniel took the pad of his thumb and gently pressed it on Johnny’s forehead, smoothing the lines there, brushing his blonde hair farther out of his face. 

He really was handsome when he wasn’t being a complete dick. 

The thought took him by surprise, but once it was there, he couldn’t dislodge it. He had never thought of Johnny as handsome. Pretty, sure, but that one he blamed solely on Amanda, who had mentioned it in the first place. 

He wondered if his phone had gone off because Amanda was texting. It would be better for them both if he didn’t ignore it. He didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. Gently, with as little movement as possible, he reached his free hand into his pocket and pulled his phone free, Johnny shifting only slightly as he did, his hand tightening around Daniel’s leg. 

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, and pressed the button on the side of the phone to check the message. 

He read Robby’s message without moving, his eyes running over the words a second, third, fourth time. He wondered, traitorously, if Robby was lying. But no, that wasn’t the kid that Daniel knew. 

He sent him a message back and put the phone down on the arm of the couch, his arm settling over Johnny’s shoulders, his body humming from the contact, comfortable and tranquil and home. 

He drifted off to sleep that way, the crick in his neck forgotten.

***

Johnny woke to the sound of an alarm that wasn’t his. He groaned, tightening his arms around the warm body beside him, burying his face, like that would make the sound stop. The body, half under him, shifted to find the source of the noise, and a few moments later, the sound was gone. Johnny murmured appreciatively, pulling one leg over his companion, tangling their legs together. 

He was comfortable, he didn’t want to move. 

And then he remembered the day before; Robby, the hearing, throwing a beer bottle at Daniel, Daniel forcing him against the door, both of them breathing heavily, Johnny trying painfully to hold back tears he didn’t want to cry. 

He opened his eyes, his suspicions confirmed. Daniel was still mostly asleep, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even. His arm was tucked protectively around Johnny’s shoulders, the fingers of his two hands clasped together to make sure Johnny couldn’t tumble off the narrow couch and onto the floor. 

Johnny considered waking him completely; he would probably be mortified if he could see himself now. The thought ached, in a tender spot he didn’t want to explore, so he settled for trying to gently extricate himself from Daniel. If he managed it, he could claim that Daniel had fallen asleep on the couch and Johnny had slept in his room. 

Or something more convincing. 

But as soon as he shifted like he was going to get up, he could feel Daniel’s arms tightening, protecting him from falling off the couch. Carefully, he reached up and pulled Daniel’s hands apart, sitting halfway up and looking back to assess how awake he was. 

“Don’t,” Daniel said quietly, his voice low and rough with sleep. The sound went straight through Johnny like an arrow and settled, burning, deep in his gut. Daniel’s eyes were still closed, but his hands reached for Johnny, blindly searching for whatever warmth had been there at his side before, trying to replace it. Johnny watched the futile effort, trying to feel what he was supposed to be feeling. 

Revulsion, disgust, _something._

“LaRusso,” he said. Daniel whined, a needy sound at the back of his throat, and Johnny scrambled to his feet. _Where_ was his body’s natural response to Daniel? Shouldn’t he be annoyed? Angry? Grossed out? 

He only felt the tight, burning ache in his stomach. 

“I figured you of all people would let me sleep in,” Daniel grumbled, his eyes finally open, still heavy. Johnny watched Daniel’s eyes search him, top down and then back up, a little obvious and a lot concerned. He bit his lip and turned away.

“Don’t you have a job?” Johnny asked, retreating cagily to his kitchen, where at least he had a barrier between himself and Daniel. 

Daniel forced himself into a sitting position, his suit jacket discarded onto the armchair, his clothes rumbled the same way his hair was. Johnny turned away to make coffee, trying not to think about it. 

“Oh, Robby messaged me last night,” Daniel said, ignoring Johnny’s question. 

Johnny, trying to pour coffee grounds into his coffeemaker, froze. “Why?” he asked, watching a few of the little grounds tumble out of the bag and onto the filter. 

“He wanted to message you but he didn’t have your new number,” Daniel said, maddeningly calm. “He said he wanted to try again. That he was sorry.” 

Johnny made a sound that sounded like a scoff, not trusting his voice to say anything else. It didn’t seem true, whatever Robby had messaged Daniel. Not after…

He refused to think about it. 

“I told him that I would meet with him today,” Daniel’s voice was getting closer, and Johnny could hear his quiet footsteps on the carpet. “Just in case he –”

He trailed off, and Johnny waited for him to find the right words. When he didn’t, he poured more coffee grounds and shut the lid of the coffee maker. He was suddenly worried that Daniel would touch him, that he would remember more clearly how they came to be spooning on the couch, because that’s what they were doing. He busied himself taking down two mugs, hoping the movement would keep Daniel at a distance. 

Not that he really minded having him close.

“You don’t have to protect me, LaRusso,” he said gruffly, trying not to look at the way Daniel’s hair was sticking up in the back. “I can handle it.” 

“I know,” Daniel said, so confidently that Johnny almost believed him. “But you did say you were going to see Miguel today, and I didn’t want to double-book you.” 

It was so domestic, so kind, and then Daniel turned away to rummage through his cabinets for sugar and cream, complaining lightly while he did about how Johnny “drinks the Coors of coffee,” his eyes light and sparkling with humor. 

Johnny shot back that there was nothing wrong with Coors, and drinking espresso was like drinking green tea – hippie and probably disgusting. Their banter was easy to get back, but it didn’t chase away with searing in his gut that told him something was fundamentally different now. 

***

Daniel drove them both to Miyagi’s place so he could change, Johnny following after him even though he could have waited in the car. But the truth was, he was full of nervous energy, both because he was going to see Miguel again, but also because while he was talking to Miguel, Daniel would be talking to Robby. 

“Make sure you tell him we aren’t fighting anymore,” he said to Daniel, who tossed him a glance over his shoulder on the way to a little closet, where he pulled out another button up shirt and a pair of slacks. 

“I will,” he promised. 

“Why don’t you wear normal clothes, LaRusso?” Johnny asked. “You’re in a suit every damn day.” 

Daniel shrugged, unbothered, and stepped out of Johnny’s sight into a little bathroom just off from the main room. He didn’t bother shutting the door all the way – if Johnny took half a step to his left, he could see Daniel in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. 

He wouldn’t look, he told himself. 

“I only have suits here,” Daniel said from the bathroom, and Johnny’s eyes jumped up to find his voice, catching sight of him in the mirror he just swore he wouldn’t be looking through. He had already shed his shirt from the night before, and was replacing it with a light blue one, the buttons undone. 

Johnny knew Daniel was waiting for his snarky reply, but he was too preoccupied with the sight of Daniel’s bare chest. He swallowed thickly, his brain trying to think of something witty to say, something that would keep the conversation going, but every thought he had slipped free with no impression left behind. 

And then he caught Daniel’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror and turned around, pretending to look at something else. It had only been a millisecond, a searing, impossibly long millisecond, but he knew Daniel had seen him looking. 

He was across the room when Daniel returned, fully dressed, buttoning his cuffs. He fully expected Daniel to ask him what the hell he had been doing, why he was looking at him like that, something along those lines, but he simply looked at him with his eyebrows raised and asked if he was ready to go. 

***

Sitting in the diner across from the hospital with Robby instead of Johnny felt wrong. Still, it was the most convenient, considering Johnny was across the street and frankly, Daniel didn’t trust Johnny to get an Uber. He could imagine it now – the poor driver frantically trying to find Johnny, who wasn’t answering his phone, the way Johnny would complain about the music, about the poor kid’s driving. “You’re driving like a pussy,” he’d say, “here, let me show you how it’s done.” 

“Thanks for coming,” Robby’s voice was sheepish, guilty. Daniel was familiar with the sound. 

“I got you a burger and fries,” Daniel answered, trying to keep his voice level, trying not to make Robby feel worse. Still, his mother’s voice, heralding a reprimand, was rising in his throat. He could still see Johnny’s shattered face, the way he sobbed against him. “Mayo and pickles, the way you like it.” 

Robby hung his head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you and my dad yesterday.” 

“Thank you,” Daniel said, his words wooden to his own ears. It was hard, finding a balance between Johnny and Robby without much warning. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you…after –”

“I get it,” Robby answered quickly. “I was hoping my dad might still be open to the possibility of me coming to live with him.” 

Daniel put his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. “Really?” At Robby’s hopeful glance, he pursed his lips, thinking. “I can talk to him about it.” 

“Are you and my dad…” Robby trailed off, trying to find the right way to say it. Daniel watched him closely. “Friends now, or something?” 

Daniel shrugged, but what else could they be called? They had to be friends now.

“When do you go back to school?” Daniel asked finally, deciding to let the question slide unanswered. 

“Next week,” he clarified. “Unless I end up going to a different school. That might be the smart thing to do.” 

Daniel shrugged but was saved answering by the arrival of his and Robby’s food. He considered, as he looked down at it, ordering another for Johnny to eat later. 

***

Miguel’s neck was still in a brace, but he was sitting upright and eating Goldfish snacks off of the tray in front of him when Johnny arrived. Seeing him alone made Johnny feel more at ease. He glanced around, looking around for Carmen. Miguel caught him in the act and raised his eyebrows at him, his left eye still bruised. 

“She’s not here, Sensei,” he clarified. 

Johnny breathed a cowardly sigh of relief. This couldn’t go on forever – his dodging of Carmen – but he didn’t want to think about what would happen when things changed again. He was bad at dealing with change. 

“How did Robby’s hearing go?” Miguel asked brightly. It felt like a punch to the gut. Johnny took the seat beside Miguel to hide the pained look that crossed his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but Moon told Sam, who told Aisha, who told me. Did my mom talk to them?” 

“What?” Johnny asked, snatching a couple of Goldfish off of Miguel’s tray. He was _starving._ “What do you mean?” 

Miguel stared at Johnny like he was trying to figure out if he was telling a joke or not. “The police talked to her when Robby turned himself in. They wanted to figure out if they should try him as an adult or a child –”

Johnny winced, but Miguel continued, unabated. 

“But I told her that the fight was as much my fault as Robby’s. He didn’t deserve to be followed around for the rest of his life by a mistake he made in high school, you know? If our roles had been reversed, I would have done the same thing.” 

“You told your mom –”

“I asked her to tell the judge that he was defending himself,” Miguel replied. “That I was going to be fine. She really didn’t want to, but I can be very persistent when I want to be.” 

Johnny smiled, but the smile slid off his face almost as soon as it appeared. “You didn’t have to do that for him.” 

“I didn’t do it for _him,_ Sensei,” Miguel said. “I did it for _you_.” 

***

“Mom,” Sam tried to make her voice tentative, tried to shake her mom out of her thoughts without startling her. Still, she saw her shoulders go rigid, the way they did when she was forcibly pulled back to earth. “Can I go visit Miguel today?” 

Amanda closed her laptop and turned to her daughter, already dressed and wearing shoes, clearly anticipating a positive reception. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t want you getting more involved in this karate drama than you already are,” she reasoned, tapping her foot against the ground. “You need to make a clean break of it.” 

Sam crossed her arms over her chest. “Miguel isn’t karate drama. He’s my friend and he’s hurt. I want to see him.” 

“Sam –”

“And I don’t want to give up karate either,” she finished. “I know you don’t like karate much right now –”

“ _No,_ no more karate, end of discussion.” 

“Mom,” Sam almost whined. “Karate makes me happy. It helps me stay focused. I don’t want to give it up.” 

“Look at what karate did to you,” Amanda motioned at the sleeveless shirt Sam had on, a dark red-orange. She could barely see the stitches on the underside of her arm. Sam self-consciously glanced at them and looked away quickly. 

“Karate didn’t do this to me,” she said quietly. “ _I_ did this to me. I want to take responsibility for what I did.” 

As much as Amanda didn’t want to admit it, Sam was handling a difficult situation in much the way Amanda always hoped she would. She looked every bit as mature as a grown woman, asking earnestly to be a good friend to someone who might not have earned her good will. 

“I will drive you to the hospital,” she relented. “Karate is still up for negotiation.” 

Sam smiled. “I think we have a deal.” 

***

It took all of the length of a burger for Robby and Daniel to get back to their old selves. Robby seemed to loosen up considerably with food in his belly, and Daniel actually enjoyed seeing a reemergence of the kid he loved training. 

“Do you think I could…” Robby glanced down at his fries, picking at one and putting it down without eating it. “Could I have my dad’s phone number? The new one?” 

Daniel passed his phone over immediately, smiling when Robby typed in the numbers on his own and saved it. “He’d like to hear from you,” he said softly. 

Robby looked back up at him and nodded once. He was always so serious when he talked about Johnny. “I hope you guys are friends now,” he said finally. “I think you’d be good for him.” 

Daniel forced himself to breathe past the lump in his throat. 

***

“So, Sensei, the doctor said I’m going to need some physical therapy,” Miguel said, passing Johnny another Goldfish without looking. “I was thinking…”

“I’m not qualified to do physical therapy, Mr. Diaz,” Johnny replied, slipping easily into his sensei-voice. “You need a stupid degree for that.” 

Miguel laughed, as much as he could in the brace. “I’m very good at Photoshop,” he offered. “I could make you a degree.” 

“You better do the real physical therapy, Diaz,” Johnny said – faux-sternly, “and don’t let me catch you slacking off –”

“Miguel!” 

Johnny felt his stomach go so tight he thought he was going to barf up all of the Goldfish he’d stolen. He turned halfway around and caught sight of Samantha LaRusso jogging to Miguel’s other side, her face illuminated with happiness. 

Her lip was still a little bruised, and if he looked carefully, he could see the stitches under her arm. Small little things that marred a perfect painting. Following after her was Amanda LaRusso, her eyes on Johnny, searching, scrutinizing. 

“Oh, hello,” he said lamely, trying to think of something else to say. Quickly, he stood up. “Here, sit down,” he said, mostly to Sam. 

She took the seat gratefully, not really paying him much attention. He figured that was the best he could hope for. Amanda, on the other hand, hadn’t taken her eyes off of him. 

“Where’s Daniel?” she asked shrewdly, and Johnny’s eyes immediately went to Sam, who was too caught up in talking to Miguel to notice. Moony high school kids, he thought ruefully. 

He wasn’t sure if Daniel told her what he was doing, or if she knew that Daniel hadn’t actually slept at Miyagi’s place the night before. Still, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t approve of whatever Johnny had woken up to this morning. 

“Not sure,” he said, which was mostly true. He knew Daniel was meeting Robby somewhere, he just wasn’t sure where. 

“Uh huh,” Amanda didn’t believe him, and he didn’t really blame her. “Sam, honey, I’m going to wait for you outside, okay?” 

She motioned for Johnny to follow, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have a choice but to obey. She gently shut the hospital room door in their exit, and strode over to the set of chairs just barely down the hall. Johnny remembered, vividly, Daniel pressing his elbow to his chest against the wall just over there, telling him to _keep it together._

“My husband said he was going to spend one night at Miyagi’s house,” she said quietly. “It’s been two days, and I happen to know he wasn’t there last night.” Before Johnny could say anything, Amanda jumped in again. “I went by the place last night, and there was no one home.” 

Johnny glanced back at the hospital room door, wishing that suddenly Sam and Miguel ran out of things to talk about. He was never that lucky. 

“I don’t like asking someone else about my husband,” Amanda continued. “That’s – that’s never been me. But he hasn’t been telling me the truth.” 

“You should be talking to him –”

“Johnny, _please,_ ” she said, and he realized that her eyes weren’t full of anger like he’d originally thought. They were full of worry. “I’m losing him.” 

And holy _shit_ did that statement hurt, because he knew exactly how she felt. He’d known that exact same pain when Shannon had started staying out later, coming home after days out, with a new purse or new pair of shoes. 

“He was with me,” he said, deciding suddenly to tell the truth. “I had a bad day and he kept me from doing something stupid.” 

“All night,” Amanda said plaintively.

“He’s been a good friend to me,” he said earnestly. 

Amanda didn’t say anything, but looked up at him with eyes that said she wished he wasn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda gives some advice, Robby returns to school, and Johnny and Daniel prepare for CPS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Tory probably doesn't go to West Valley (I'm not sure if it's ever established truly), and Robby probably wouldn't either, but for the sake of plot reasons, they all go to the same school. Thanks for reading!

Daniel pulled up to his family’s home in Encino with dread pooling in his gut. All of the good that came from his talk with Robby, Johnny’s talk with Miguel, even the moment where Johnny’s face lit up when he passed over the extra burger he’d bought him was washed away when Johnny got into the passenger seat and told him he’d seen Amanda. 

He never thought he’d be the husband who wanted to avoid his wife. But here he was, trying to suppress the sharp needle of pain in his chest that always came with increased stress. He took a deep breath and released it. He had nothing to hide; he had nothing to be frightened of. 

_Oh,_ how that was a lie. 

She was sitting at the dining room table when he came in, her glasses on the edge of her nose, poring over a document he could decipher. She let him shut the door and put his keys down before she looked up. He was surprised to see resignation there, not anger. Still, it didn’t make him feel any better. 

“I take it Johnny already talked to you,” she said quietly. “Based on the look on your face.” 

What was wrong with his face? 

“You look like you’re afraid of me,” she continued. “When did that happen?” 

He didn’t know what to say. What was there to say, even? That he wasn’t even sure he was afraid of her, he was afraid of what he was going to say, what he was going to learn about himself when she asked him her intelligent and probing questions? There was no way to articulate it. 

“I thought you hated him,” she said finally, when he couldn’t seem to find the words to speak. He looked up at her, all dignity and poise, the only crack in her armor the tight line of her mouth, where he could see the sadness. 

“I did, too,” he answered. 

To her credit, she didn’t look shocked. She looked down at the table and blinked several times, and then inhaled sharply through her nose. 

“Okay,” she said, and her voice had shifted into a more business-like tone. “I think it would be best if you stayed at Miyagi’s for a while.” 

“Amanda –”

“Until you figure some things out – what, Daniel?” she asked. “Do you have a better idea?” 

He didn’t, but going to Miyagi’s for an undetermined amount of time felt final, like a door was closing and locking behind him. He tightened his jaw and looked down at the shining wood of the table. 

“Go to Miyagi’s,” she said, and there was the tenderness in her voice again, closing over his heart like a vice. “Figure out what’s happening with you. And then you can decide to come back.” 

The “ _or not_ ” was unsaid but he heard it clearly. He knew she did too. 

“I’m sorry,” he said in the silence that followed, when she was almost out of the room. She stopped and turned back to him, her eyes watery. 

“I know you are,” she said with a slight, sad smile. “That just makes it harder.” 

***

Johnny spent a long time trying to track down all of the broken glass from the beer bottle he threw when he got back to his apartment. He turned on all the lights, managed to knock over everything on the counter trying to use his broom to get glass off the counter and cabinets, and still kept finding little brown pieces of glass hours after. 

Now he was sitting on the floor in his kitchen, a flashlight in his left hand, a wet paper towel in the other, trying to make sure every sliver of glass was picked up. If CPS came to do a home study on his place, the last thing he wanted was pieces of glass found by an unsuspecting foot. 

He tried not to think of Daniel, who had gone ashen when Johnny admitted that he’d had a talk with Amanda in the hospital. He tried not to think about what that must mean for his marriage. Daniel still refused to talk about it, but things that Amanda said stayed with Johnny long after the conversation was over. 

_“Please, Johnny. I’m losing him.”_

What was going on with those two that Johnny didn’t know about? 

He put the thought out of his head when his phone vibrated. It wasn’t something he needed to dwell on, especially when he had no way of finding out for sure without probing Daniel like he was truly invested in the success of his marriage. 

But that’s what a good friend would do, wasn’t it? 

He pulled his phone out, narrowing his eyes at the icon at the top. This piece of shit got _emails?_ He thought he’d somehow be free from all of that shit by now. 

The CPS document was nothing but a newsletter-looking list, detailing all of the things Johnny had to have to be considered Robby’s guardian. He tossed a glance over to his apartment. How many things on the list could he be missing, really? 

Turns out, quite a few of them. 

Suddenly, the glass on the floor wasn’t that big of a deal. He shifted positions so he could lean against the cabinets, his foot propped against the other side of the tiny kitchen, reading. He had to have a job (did freelance handyman work count if he hadn’t actually booked any jobs in a few weeks?), Robby had to have his own room (he definitely didn’t have that), and Johnny had to have a way of getting him to school every day (the regret he felt at leaving his car at the beach compounded). 

He dropped his head to his arm. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? His traitorous mind whispered that he could message Daniel, Daniel would help, but he pushed that away. He couldn’t rely on LaRusso for everything, that would be ridiculous. Robby wasn’t _his_ kid. He was Johnny’s, and it was his responsibility to get shit right for _his_ kid. 

He started by putting in a call to his old friend Mike, who had fired him for calling that rich bitch a “bitch.” Maybe he could still salvage this. 

***

Seeing the little closet full of clothes when it was usually empty made Daniel feel weird, like he was existing between worlds. Surely where he was standing wasn’t real, right, when his daughter and son were somewhere else, when his wife was probably telling them an excuse they hadn’t agreed upon before he left? 

It felt curiously like a dream, to be standing in Miyagi’s place, knowing that this was where he lived now. For now. 

His phone, on the desk, pinged, and he had to slip his glasses on to read the message, grateful to have them back to stave off eye-strain-related headaches. 

“Just saw the required list CPS gave my dad for guardianship,” Robby’s email said, with an attachment. Daniel clicked it open, his eyes scanning purposefully over the lines the same way they did when he was at the dealership. 

“So I guess that’s a failure, then,” Robby’s message came through after, the words a sharp pain in Daniel’s heart. 

Daniel was a control freak – that particular character flaw he was well-versed in. Everyone had said it to him at least once, with varying degrees of affection. When he was staring indecision in the face, when things were out of his control, he liked to pivot and find things he could focus on instead. Here was yet another opportunity to do the same thing. 

“Don’t call it a failure yet,” he messaged back, pulling his glasses off and jogging to the other side of the house, forgetting on his way to put his shoes back on. He hadn’t done much to most of the “guest house” he and Miyagi had built right before they left for Okinawa so many years ago. If he could hurry, and if Johnny put aside his pride, he thought he might have a solution for both father and son that might work.

He just needed to work out a strategy. 

***

Johnny was _exhausted._ The day had been spent negotiating on the phone with Mike, who, after hours of bullshitting and posturing, had allowed Johnny his job back, doing something he hoped he’d never have to do again (sacrifices must be made), even giving him a deal on a cheap pickup truck he could use to get to and from work. 

That took care of a couple of the CPS mandated issues, but it still didn’t take care of the one he was most worried about. 

He didn’t have the money to move to a bigger apartment, and the money he would be making at Mike’s wouldn’t be enough to cover the rent of a bigger apartment, even if he had the money squirreled away to get him there. He groaned, falling onto his couch, covering his eyes. He just wished the day could be over already. 

But CPS was coming tomorrow, and they were just waiting for his address and his employer’s name to put in his file. 

Still, he reasoned, he deserved a few minute’s break. He’d been running around all day. The wet paper towel, now dry, was still on the floor of the kitchen, as if it had fallen asleep in its pursuit of wayward glass. 

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, content to think of less stressful things in his mandated rest time. Suddenly, with a rush, he missed karate. He wished he could just say that he was a business owner on that stupid CPS form. He wished he could be getting ready to go to Cobra Kai training right now. He hadn’t had enough time to think about it while the rest of his life started slowly stitching itself together, but there it was, lingering, like an open wound, waiting to be acknowledged. 

He tried to do what Daniel always did, and breathed in deeply, closed his eyes, and exhaled. He thought it might have worked, and did it again, except this time, he was assaulted with the smell of Daniel’s cologne, or his laundry soap, or something that was just distinctly _LaRusso._

This wasn’t restful at all. 

Still, he found himself slipping deeper and deeper into the couch, the day’s exhaustion catching up to him. His body told him he was on the edge of sleep, driven there by the residual comfort of the night before and this morning. 

His brain scoffed and said that was preposterous. 

He was just proving his body right and drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at his door. He considered ignoring it, but the cadence of the knock was familiar. He forced himself upward and answered it. 

It was like he’d conjured him – LaRusso was standing on the other side, wearing a pair of (were his eyes deceiving him?) cargo shorts and a polo shirt, and glasses that he’d never seen before. The conclusion that this outfit was cute took all coherent thought away; he stood in the doorway, gaping at him, until Daniel furrowed his brow, confused, and started talking. 

“I need you to pack a bag and get in my car,” he said, and he was breathless, like he’d ran up to the door, eager to get on with it. 

Johnny blinked. “Are you…taking me somewhere to kill me?” he asked, trying for humor. 

Daniel shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” he replied. “Whose truck is that?” 

He indicated Johnny’s newest acquisition. “It’s mine,” he said. “CPS said I had to have a way to get Robby to school, so –”

“That’s why I’m here,” Daniel said, interrupting him. 

“Because of CPS?” Johnny asked. “I had no idea CPS workers would dress like a middle-aged dad.” 

Daniel gave him a mocking sneer, like he was on the edge of ridiculing him. “Ha ha,” he grumbled. “Will you just pack a goddamn bag and get in my car?” 

“Okay,” Johnny said, retreating back into his apartment, leaving the door open for Daniel to follow or not. “Jeez, bossy.” 

He wasn’t sure what to pack, so he threw some clothes into a bag, a toothbrush, and his Cobra Kai jacket and zipped it up. It took him a record few minutes, and he found Daniel standing in the doorway when he was finished, looking antsy. 

“Calm down, LaRusso, before you blow your load too early,” he laughed, putting the bag on his shoulder. “I’m packed, take me to my death site.” 

Daniel didn’t answer, but ushered him out of the apartment and toward his car. 

The ride was silent, Daniel’s hand on the middle console tense and flexed. Johnny kept looking at it, like a live snake that could come alive at any moment and attack him. He didn’t ask him where they were going, didn’t antagonize him. Truthfully, he was too tired to do that. 

And then he realized where they were going. 

“Killing me at Miyagi’s place would get you convicted of my murder in less than ten minutes, LaRusso,” he finally spoke into the silence. He noticed when Daniel flinched at the sound of his voice that they had been riding the whole time without any music playing. The silence was like a fog that his voice had dissipated suddenly. He was seeing Daniel clearly now, the veins in his tense arm, the sharp jaw even sharper, the bouncing left leg. 

Daniel was _nervous._

“LaRusso, what’s going on?” he asked. 

They were pulling into the little drive now, Daniel turning off the car and staring straight ahead. His mouth worked like he was forming words in his mouth and then discarding them, only for his mouth to fill up with more. He licked his lips and pressed his tongue to the underside of his top lip, Johnny still waiting for an answer. 

“You have a home visit tomorrow,” Daniel said finally, turning toward him. “I saw the list that CPS sent you.” 

“What? How?” he asked, but he knew the answer. Robby. Still going to Daniel for help. He wanted to feel jealous, but he just felt a soft ache in his stomach at the thought that he dismissed. 

“I figured you would have trouble with at least one of those things on the list,” Daniel continued, no longer looking at him, finding some comfort in looking elsewhere. 

“Come on,” Johnny laughed anxiously. “Just get to whatever you’re going to say, LaRusso.” 

Instead of speaking, Daniel pushed the door of the car open and got out, Johnny following. He walked up a couple of steps to a different part of the house than the one Johnny had been in before. Johnny trailed after him, suddenly and momentarily transfixed by the back of Daniel’s muscular calves, always hidden by his stupid slacks. 

“When I was a teenager, Mr. Miyagi and I built this place for me to live when my mom was going to move me away from Reseda,” Daniel said, opening the door and motioning for Johnny to go inside. “I lived in it for a summer and then during some holiday breaks. It’s been mostly used for my kids when we would come out here, but…” here he trailed off, and Johnny almost asked him about his wife, about his marriage, but bit his tongue. “We don’t do that anymore.” 

“What are you getting at, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, still standing in the only bit of light they had to see by, the floodlight that illuminated the front part of the house. 

Daniel flipped on a light switch and stepped out of the way, letting Johnny look for himself. What he saw was a large, open room, with a television (now far outdated), two small couches, a Playstation 2, a bed in the corner, a tiny kitchen, about the same size as Johnny’s in his apartment, and a room off to the side, the door cracked. 

“I don’t understand,” Johnny said, even though he was pretty sure he did. 

“You don’t have a room for Robby at your apartment,” Daniel said in a nervous rush. “But if you –”

“You want me to move in here?” Johnny asked, his voice neutral. On one hand, it was an incredibly kind gesture, one that had clearly taken Daniel all day to work out, if the boxes just around the corner were any indication, but on the other hand, it was just another reminder that he wasn’t capable of taking care of his kid by himself. 

“I mean, I figured let CPS inspect this place, stay here with Robby, keep your apartment if you want, I don’t care, really, and then when you have the time to get a place for you and Robby that’s truly yours, you can go,” Daniel was spitting words out at record speed, his hands trying to elucidate his brilliant magical plan that Johnny couldn’t quite follow. His eyes still wouldn’t meet Johnny’s. “I just – I thought it sucked that CPS was going to inspect you so quickly. It doesn’t really give you time to prepare, so –”

“LaRusso, stop, before you pass out,” Johnny said firmly. “I’m not angry at you.” 

Daniel deflated, letting out a sigh that seemed to make him several inches shorter, and Johnny could see the toll the day had taken on him. He was overcome suddenly with the urge to pull Daniel into his arms, to run his fingers through his hair, to show him how thankful he was that there was someone in his life who cared enough to do something like this for him and Robby. 

“You’re not,” Daniel said, and there was a flat disbelief in his voice, like this had gone better than he’d dare hope. 

“You spent all day doing this?” Johnny asked, looking around the room so he wouldn’t have to look at Daniel’s face and feel that nagging temptation to touch him again. “Jesus, LaRusso, get a life.” 

Daniel laughed, a full, true laugh that pulled Johnny in and held him tightly. He so rarely made Daniel laugh, and when he did it was sarcastic, or suppressed, but this was open, inviting, and intoxicating to watch. He could get drunk on that laugh alone, the way his eyes squinted when the laugh overtook him, the perfect teeth. 

The urge to kiss him blindsided him completely. He stood there, his arms and legs numb, Daniel’s laugh still buoying him, trying to decide what to do. 

In the end, Daniel pushed him further into the little house to show him the whole thing, and Johnny obediently followed, weak in the knees and deeply confused.

***

Robby’s first day back at West Valley High School was…well, he wasn’t really sure what it was, because he spent the day drowning in an oppressive pool of anxiety. He walked, like a zombie, from class to class, relying on teachers to give him directions to the place he was expected to be in next. 

He was supposed to be a junior by now, but some of the classes he’d neglected last year needed to be repeated. He was in the junior pre-calculus class, physics, and English, but was still in sophomore-level world history, Spanish, and art. 

By the time lunch came around, the anxiety had started to wane, and he was marginally grateful that either no one remembered him, or they had all forgotten about the fight by now. His nightmares had been full of faceless teenagers with phones thrust in his face, asking him to do a kick, to punch Miguel over the railing. The reality was far more boring, and he was grateful for it. 

“Robby,” Moon was sitting at the table closest to the wall, the sunlight from one of the high windows shining down on her hair, turning it gold. “Come sit with me.” 

He took the seat beside her, returning her smile. The nerves were starting to come back – people he didn’t know where casting him looks, muttering to themselves. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Moon said, stabbing her fork into her salad. There was a thin slice of pizza beside it. Robby almost smiled – Moon was all about balance. “They’re Neanderthals.” 

He figured they would sit there alone – who else would want to sit with them, anyway? And then a crowd of students piled into the cafeteria, and the seats around him were suddenly taken by Aisha, Demetri, and Sam, who gave him an encouraging smile. 

“Good to see you back, buddy,” Demetri said, and Aisha nodded. 

“Uh, thanks,” Robby replied, turning for the first time to his lunch. He hadn’t been paying attention when he picked it up, and on closer inspection, he realized he’d gotten a weird sandwich full of what might be egg salad and a plastic tub with mixed vegetables. 

“Here,” Moon slid the mixed vegetables away from him and replaced it with her slice of pizza. “This is better.” 

Demetri nodded and slid over the brownie on his own plate. “I’m gluten-free,” he said to Robby’s questioning glance, even though Robby was pretty sure he’d seen him eating breaded chicken strips when he’d been attacked at the mall. 

“Are you finding all of your classes okay?” Sam asked. “I can write down some directions for you if you need them.” 

He didn’t even answer her, but gave her a single nod, passing his schedule over. She didn’t reply; they didn’t need to. They’d always understood each other perfectly. Karate did that to you. 

“I heard Miguel should be getting out of the hospital in the next week or so,” Aisha said, looking up from her phone. “Some of us were going to put something together for him, like a banner outside the hospital. You guys want in?” 

Robby looked down at the table. It didn’t feel right, talking about Miguel like they were friends. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Miguel had to have appealed on his behalf to keep him from getting into deeper trouble, but that didn’t make it easier. In fact, he felt more in his debt than ever. 

Quietly, he felt Moon’s hand reach over and take his under the table, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

***

“Traitor,” Tory muttered from her seat, trying not to look over at the other table. “Who does Aisha think she is?” 

“She’s friends with Sam,” Eli replied, taking a bite of his pizza. “And she’s not in Cobra Kai anymore, remember? She doesn’t owe us her loyalty.” 

“Cobra Kai never dies,” Tory hissed. “She wore the gi, Hawk.” 

“And now she isn’t,” he said, emphasizing each word. “She’s not doing anything wrong by sitting with her friend.”

“And how long before Bert defects to wherever she’s training now?” Tory said. “How long before Stingray does? Or Assface, or whatever it is you guys call him?” 

“She isn’t training somewhere else,” Eli said stiffly, uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. “She isn’t training at all.” 

“How do you know that?” she asked, leaning on her elbow to fix him with a penetrating glare that he didn’t like. 

“She told me,” he admitted. “I messaged her to ask about Miguel, and she mentioned that she missed training.” 

“You should have told her to come back,” Tory said, turning her attention back to her food. 

“She doesn’t want to work with Kreese,” Eli replied. “He’s the one that’s chasing people away. You know that as well as I do.” 

“He’s a tough teacher, that’s true,” Tory said. “But that’s how we get better.” 

Eli wanted to ask her why she was treating karate like a war. He remembered, very recently, thinking the exact same way. But being on your guard for a war all of the time was exhausting. He realized, as he watched Aisha laugh with Sam, Demetri, and the others, that he missed having friends. Cobra Kai didn’t feel like friends anymore. 

***

Daniel thought that Johnny was going to be a nervous, rude wreck through the entire of the home visit. He watched the man pace through Miyagi’s guest house (no, Johnny’s house, now, it was Johnny’s place now) so many times he could wear holes through the floor. He changed his clothes three times, switching between two outfits that were almost indistinguishable from each other, finally settling on his first choice. 

And then the CPS case manager had walked in, and he had shaken her hand, all gracious smiles and charming blue eyes, and Daniel was left pleasantly surprised. The nerves had focused him completely. 

He let the case manager have free roam of the house, and met Daniel in the little kitchenette, his eyes wide. 

“It’s going well,” Daniel said quietly, stepped close into Johnny’s space so they couldn’t be overheard. “Right, isn’t it going well?” 

Johnny shifted against the counter, his eyes scanning over Daniel’s face before looking away to see if he was being watched. “I think so.” 

The visit ended with them all sat at the little round table that served as a dining room table. Daniel had originally stayed away from the table, thinking that it wasn’t his business, it was something Johnny would want to do himself, and then Johnny was looking over his shoulder in askance, and Daniel was powerless to resist him. 

He took the seat beside him and listened carefully to the case manager. 

“Because Robby has been put under some restrictions by the judge, that means we will have to come by every month or so to make sure he’s complying with the mandates,” she was saying. “It’s never a very formal affair, but you should be aware of them. If Robby is found to be in violation of them, he could be remanded to a juvenile detention center, and his case revisited by the judge.” 

“Okay,” Johnny said, and to the case manager, he must have looked every bit the attentive parent. But Daniel could see the way his jaw went tense, the way his leg started bouncing under the table. 

“I have left a binder here with you,” the case manager was saying, Johnny's response deemed appropriate, “that outlines all the CPS expects of you as a legal guardian. If you are found in violation of these rules, Robby will be placed with another family.” 

Daniel watched as the air leaked from Johnny’s lungs, like someone had punched him. 

Quietly, without drawing attention to himself, he reached over under the table and put his hand on Johnny’s knee. Quickly, like he had been waiting for it, Johnny dropped his hand down to his and held it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Robby embark on a "new normal." Sam tries to figure some things out. It's Daniel's turn to be knocked off-balance. Aisha sees Eli, not Hawk. Kreese is...well, Kreese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a panic attack in this chapter! If that's something that might upset you, please skip. Also credit in this chapter goes to StoryShark2005 because I feel like Book of Job might have inadvertently inspired part of this chapter. If you haven't read that fic yet, get on it!

Johnny asked Daniel to be in the guest-house with him when Robby arrived with Laura, his backpack on one shoulder and duffle bag on the other. He was nervous, Daniel could see it in the set of his mouth, the way he kept chewing on his lower lip, the way his eyes kept darting around the room. Laura, to her credit, was kind enough, offering to help Robby get settled in the back room. Daniel wasn’t sure if she could see how anxious Johnny was, but either way, he was grateful for her kindness. 

“He wanted to come here,” Daniel reminded him. “No one forced him into this.” 

“What if he hates it here?” Johnny asked, his eyes on the door to the bedroom. 

Daniel scoffed. “You insulting my guest house, Johnny Lawrence?” 

Johnny’s eyes snapped to his, wide and momentarily worried. Then he registered the sly half-smile on Daniel’s face and exhaled, punching Daniel lightly on the arm. “You’re such a dick, LaRusso.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Daniel muttered, going to the kitchen. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?” 

“Is this some girly, hippy shit tea?” Johnny asked, but he followed, the longer piece of his hair bouncing in a way that reminded Daniel strikingly of a puppy. 

“ _Yes,_ Johnny,” Daniel replied sarcastically. “Hippy shit tea, designed to turn you into a man-bun wearing, Birkenstock collecting vegan. I’ll make you two cups. There’s a lot to counteract in there.” He poked Johnny in the side, not bothering to look up from the sink, where he was filling the kettle. 

“Eat shit, LaRusso,” he muttered, careful to watch his volume where Laura could hear him. Daniel had to explain to him many times that CPS didn’t really care if he cussed on occasion, but he was frightened of them the way a school kid was of their head teacher, and the explanations didn’t really make much of a difference. 

“Are you _cussing_ at me, Johnny Lawrence?” Daniel asked, raising his volume. “I’m going to go tattle on you to Miss Laura.” 

“LaRusso, I swear to God –”

“He’s swearing!” Daniel said, even louder, lapsing into laughter when Johnny’s hand clamped over his mouth. He let Johnny glare at him and shrugged, continuing about his tea-making business with Johnny’s hand still over his mouth. 

“You wait until this CPS lady leaves,” Johnny hissed, but there was a playfulness sparkling in his eyes that belied any real threat. He yanked his hand off of Daniel’s mouth.

“Oh yeah, hot shot, what are you going to do, hmm?” Daniel asked. Johnny turned his eyes back to him, blue eyes burning into him, full of a shine that Daniel couldn’t identify, he’d never seen it before. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to drink your damn tea, and then you’re going to go to bed so you can take Robby to school tomorrow.” 

He expected Johnny to argue, to add his own sarcastic comment to the fray. Truthfully, Daniel didn’t care if he drank the tea or not. He was just trying to keep him distracted from Laura’s presence so he’d stop looking like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. But Johnny didn’t say anything. He just gazed at him, his attention noticeable but not heavy, the tips of his ears red. 

“This is such a lovely little place you have here,” Laura stuck her head into the little kitchen area, her blonde hair swinging around her shoulders. “So peaceful.” 

“Thanks,” Johnny answered when Daniel stuck an elbow into his side. 

“I’m going to leave you guys to your,” she dropped her eyes to the kettle on the stove, “tea. Have a good night, Mr. Lawrence, Mr. LaRusso.” 

“You too, Laura,” Daniel replied, pushing Johnny by the waist toward her when she turned away. “Walk her out,” he mouthed, pointing at the door. Johnny gave him the finger but obeyed, and he could hear his voice, low and charming, as he led her out the front door. 

***

It felt like the beginning of a new normal, waking up early to make sure Robby was awake for school. He even made toast (burned), and poured him a glass of orange juice (not expired, he checked). Robby didn’t talk much, but gave him a sincere, “thanks dad,” with a mouthful of burnt toast, so he counted it as a win. 

“Do you like going to this school?” Johnny asked as they turned down the lane close to West Valley. “After –”

Robby shrugged. “I thought it would be weird, but I do have a couple of friends here. I don’t mind it.” 

“Good,” Johnny said, still feeling like everything he said was wrong, or awkward. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “If shit starts getting bad again, I want you to tell me, okay? Or LaRusso. We can move you to another school.” 

Robby stared at him from the passenger seat; Johnny could feel his eyes burning into the side of his skull. He wasn’t sure what Robby was looking for, but he hoped he found it. After a moment, his son looked away, down to his phone again. 

“I have…a question,” Robby began slowly. “I know you and Mr. LaRusso are….friends.”

Johnny clenched his jaw. They were, weren’t they? Friends? It was weird to think of Daniel LaRusso as anything other than a pain in his ass, but even as he thought it, the words didn’t fit him anymore. Did friend fit him better? He wasn’t sure.

“I guess so,” he said, prompting Robby to continue. 

“Well, the judge said I had to continue karate,” Robby said, choosing his words with care. “I know that both you and Mr. LaRusso don’t teach anymore, and I know I learned with Mr. LaRusso before, but –”

“We can help you find a new dojo if you want,” Johnny offered, pulling up to the drop off section of the school. 

“I – well, if that’s what you want,” Robby stammered. “I just – I’d like to learn from you. Or Mr. LaRusso. Or both, if you guys think you won’t kill each other.” 

Just the prospect of teaching karate again was thrilling; Johnny wanted to lean over and hug his son, thank him for even the opportunity to do something like this with him, but restrained himself. As much as he wanted to train his son, to continue his legacy, he didn’t have a dojo anymore. And Amanda had forbidden Daniel from doing karate. Would even Johnny teaching Robby in Miyagi’s backyard get Daniel in trouble with his wife? 

If it would, it was out of the question. 

“Just think about it,” Robby offered into the silence, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Will you pick me up after?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “I’ll be done at work by then. 

He watched his son trot off into the school building, his mind buzzing with ideas. 

***

Sam waited until she saw the unfamiliar truck (Robby and Sensei Lawrence in the front seats) leave before she crept up the driveway. She was going to be late for school, but she was past caring. She hadn’t seen her dad in four days, and every time she asked her mom, she got another vague excuse. She didn’t begrudge her mother the excuses, really, but she was getting worried. What had gone so wrong that he wasn’t coming home? And why wasn’t anyone even trying to talk about it? 

She found him in the main room of Miyagi’s house, putting his coffee cup into the sink. 

“Dad,” she said as a greeting. He didn’t jump; he’d heard her footsteps. Still, he met her gaze warily, like he was trying to figure out what she was going to say before she said it. He was dressed for work, in a typical black suit and blue shirt. 

“Sam!” he still looked happy to see her, that was good. “How’s your arm, is it still sore?” he immediately checked the stitches, his concern warm and comforting. She wanted to cry suddenly. Too much was changing, too many things were happening at once, and none of them were being explained. 

“Stitches should come out in the next week,” she said. “You would know that if you were at home.” 

He looked like she’d hit him. Immediately he backed off, retreating to the sink to rinse out his coffee cup. “What has your mother said about that?” he asked, and she could hear the forced nonchalance in his voice, the way he struggled to behave like everything was normal. 

“Can you just be honest with me?” she asked. “Who cares what Mom said? I care about what _you_ say.” She could feel the tears coming now, the way they always did when she got angry or frustrated. “Are you guys getting divorced?” 

“What? Sam, no,” he was by her side in a flash, an arm slung around her shoulders. “No, that’s not what this is about.” 

“What is it about?” she asked, pulling away to look up at him more clearly. “Because no one will tell me.” 

He looked away from her, his eyes going back to his lone coffee cup in the sink. She followed his gaze. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I saw Sensei Lawrence and Robby leaving this morning.” 

He looked caught, like he had been doing something wrong. She recognized that face, there were baby pictures of her making the same one. It made her feel almost nostalgic. 

“I know that Robby was worried about a home visit,” she continued, gently prodding, hoping her dad would come in and add something soon. “Is that what this is about? You let Sensei Lawrence move into the guest house?” 

He pulled away, and she followed him, taking a seat across from him at the little table. He stared down at the wood, trying to find words. 

“Your mom and I are having some issues about how to handle things,” he said carefully. She raised her eyebrows at him. 

“That didn’t tell me anything,” she said frankly. 

“I’m trying to make things right,” he said, these words stronger than the others. “And in doing so, I’m learning some things about myself that your mother and I don’t really agree on. She asked me to stay here until I figure them out. And she’s right, I should be here.” 

“About Sensei Lawrence?” she asked. 

He looked suddenly pale. Sam couldn’t decide if the color just drained from his face or if it had happened gradually. Either way, she felt like she had her hand on a live wire, and a wrong move would make everything worse. Still, she talked to Aisha, to Miguel, to Robby. She knew something was going on with her dad and Sensei Lawrence. 

“I’m not going to tell,” she offered gently. “Whatever’s going on, Dad, you have to know that I wouldn’t judge you. I would never.” 

He stood up from his seat hurriedly, turning away from her again. She followed after him, trying to catch his eyes again. She wanted him to understand, even if he didn’t, that she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what was going on between him and Johnny Lawrence, she didn’t care about karate. 

She just missed her dad. 

“You’re going to be late for school,” he said, and his voice was thick, like he was trying not to cry. 

“I don’t mind,” she replied. 

“I’m going to be late for work,” he argued weakly. 

“Dad,” she said, and it sounded like an admonishment. “Please.” 

***

Aisha missed the days when she and Sam would meet at her locker and walk to lunch together. Then Yasmin had come along and taken her away, and Aisha had started walking to lunch alone. In the aftermath of the fight, she wished even more for those little things they had before karate had separated them. They weren’t fighting anymore, but getting back to where they had been would take time. She was grateful that their friendship had survived so much, but sometimes she felt like Sam was her only true friend at West Valley. Everyone else was occupied with someone else, doing something else. 

Sam had texted her to tell her she was going to see her dad that morning and would probably be late to class, but it was lunch time now and she was still nowhere to be found. 

“Looking for your little friend?” 

Tory was leaning against the locker beside her, the spiked bracelet still attached to her wrist. Just seeing it made her angry. She closed her locker and started walking toward the cafeteria, Tory following along behind her. 

“I can’t believe how quickly you turned on Cobra Kai,” Tory hissed, stepping so close to Aisha that she almost tripped her. “I thought it was Cobra Kai, never die.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Aisha muttered, side-stepping her, “when Sensei Lawrence is teaching. Not that…terrorist.” 

“Sensei Kreese isn’t a terrorist,” Tory snapped. “He’s a real leader.”

“Yeah, okay,” Aisha said sarcastically. “Then go be a disciple somewhere else, I’m not interested.” 

“ _What did you say?_ ” Tory asked, doubling her speed to step in front of her, blocking her way. 

“I said go do it somewhere else,” Aisha repeated slowly. “I’m not doing this with you.” 

“Take it back,” Tory said, crossing her arms over chest. Aisha sighed, her eyes surreptitiously searching the crowd for backup. She could only see Demetri at the edge of the crowd, and when they made eye contact, he slipped into the crowd, shoving his way through the students lingering, waiting to see a follow up to the infamous brawl. 

“No,” Aisha said firmly. “And I’m not going to fight you.” 

And then Tory shoved her, hard. Aisha stumbled back a few steps, and felt hands behind her catch her and push her forward, closer to Tory, who was already in her fighting stance. Aisha looked behind her, hoping that at least someone back there would be sympathetic, but all she saw were more eager faces, phones already up, ready to record. 

“Take it back!” 

“Tory,” Hawk wrestled his way to the front of the crowd, Demetri scurrying along behind him. “What the hell are you doing? You trying to get expelled?” 

“She’s a traitor,” Tory spat at Aisha, who was looking, gratefully, at Demetri, who smiled at her. “She insulted Sensei Kreese.” 

“So?” Hawk asked. “Insults are a daily thing here. Come on, go to lunch, quit trying to start shit.” 

“No mercy,” she said, turning her eyes to Hawk. “Are you Cobra Kai or not?” 

“I’m a _high school kid_ ,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t want to get expelled, and I don’t think you do either. Now let’s go.” 

She stared at him coldly for a moment, and Aisha thought she would start fighting Hawk too. And then a teacher at the end of the hall opened their classroom door, the handle slamming accidentally against the wall, and the spell was broken. 

Hawk grabbed Tory by the elbow and pulled her into the dispersing crowd, already bored with all the talk and no action. She struggled, hissing words into his ear, but he ignored her, tossing a glance over his shoulder to Aisha and Demetri, and close-lipped smile that Aisha took as an apology. 

She accepted. 

***

By the time lunchtime came around for Johnny, he had driven all around Encino and realized with fresh eyes how much he hated doing handyman work. He hated climbing up ladders while the metal below him burned through his shoes, he hated cleaning up entitled little shits’ messes. It was demeaning work when he was almost exclusively dealing with men who reminded him of Sid and women who always pretended like he didn’t exist when they were in the same room. 

So he drove back to the guest house for lunch, his next job at 3, a short pool cleaning thing that put him close-ish to West Valley so he could pick up Robby when he was done. 

Daniel’s car was still in the drive when he pulled in. Hadn’t he said he was going to work that morning? He’d made a big deal over whining about sales reports or some shit or another. Johnny remembered because he told him to make more tea to calm the fuck down. 

He wanted to go to the guest house and make a fried bologna sandwich, but he found himself trotting up to the door of Miyagi’s place, knocking twice and pushing the front door open. Daniel never locked the door here, the idiot, since the front gate usually took care of any unwanted visitors. 

He was sitting at the table, alone, both of his hands around a mug of tea that had long gone cold. He was looking without seeing, deep in thought. 

“LaRusso,” Johnny said, taking a step back when he jumped horribly. “Jesus Christ man, what the fuck is going on?” 

Daniel visibly relaxed when he saw who it was, but didn’t speak. He turned back to his cup of tea and took a sip, flinching away from it when it reached his lips. 

“How long have you been sitting here?” Johnny asked. 

“I’m not sure,” he took his cup of tea to the sink and dumped it out. His eyes went to the clock on the microwave and went back to Johnny. “What are you doing here?” 

“Lunch,” Johnny shrugged. “But I saw your car, so –” He didn’t want to say he was worried, but Daniel seemed to read it on his face. 

“Sam came by,” he said as an explanation. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” He sighed and seemed to refocus himself. “How was Robby?” 

“Good,” Johnny felt pride overtake his worry. “He uh – he asked me something on the ride today.” Daniel was looking at him curiously, listening intently. For a moment, Johnny considered not telling him after all. He looked like he’d had enough happen in one day. 

“What was it?” Daniel prompted. 

“He asked if we would consider training him together,” Johnny said casually, feeling, now that he said it, his chest buoy with hope. “If we thought we wouldn’t kill each other, that is.” 

Daniel was gazing at him with that weird expression that made Johnny’s stomach clench, like his body was learning something that his brain couldn’t connect yet. He didn’t speak. 

“He just,” Johnny continued. “The judge told him to continue with karate,” he could feel that he was about to start rambling, and tried to rein it in. “I told him we could find another dojo, obviously, since we don’t teach anymore, but –”

“We could re-open Miyagi-do,” Daniel finally said, his voice soft, his eyes fixed on the floor below Johnny’s feet. “We could re-open it together.” 

Johnny had to clench his teeth to keep from smiling. That was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, but something was nagging at him. Something that told him not to get his hopes up yet. 

“We could give all of those kids that Kreese chased away a place to practice without having to turn into bullies,” Daniel mused. “Sam and Robby, Demetri, all of them.” 

“What about Amanda?” Johnny forced himself to ask. “Didn’t she say –”

“ _Jesus_ , Johnny,” Daniel pressed the heels of his hands into the recesses of his eyes. “I – I don’t want to talk about Amanda.” 

“Okay, that’s usually fine,” Johnny noted, going back to the front door to take his shoes off. “Except I don’t want you doing something that you think will help us both if it will really make things harder for you with her.” 

“Stop,” Daniel snapped. His mouth was pulled into a firm line. “Stop worrying about what Amanda thinks about things. She’s not your wife.” 

“Don’t try to piss me off, LaRusso,” Johnny replied. “You’re only good at it when you’re not trying. I’m trying to be a good friend.” Daniel looked up at him, the muscles in his jaw jumping, tensing and untensing, over and over again, an independent heartbeat. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I mean – clearly you gotta say something. It’s driving you nuts.” 

“It’s not driving me nuts,” Daniel muttered, turning away from Johnny to the table again, looking for something to keep his hands busy. But the table was empty. 

“Why did Sam come by?” 

“Johnny, _don’t_ ,” Daniel warned, turning back to him. “This is – we don’t talk about this –” There was something in his gaze that was vaguely frightening, but Johnny pushed forward anyway.

“You don’t get to be there for me and demand that I’m not there for you,” Johnny argued, stepping into the kitchen now, invading Daniel’s space. “You’re not my father, we’re equals. So spill it.” 

He was really proud of that line. He never really knew what to say to LaRusso without insulting him, it was such a knee-jerk response. He didn’t want to suddenly be sincere and freak him out. But here he was, being open and honest without sounding like a whiny baby. That was good. It was progress. 

And then Daniel started crying. 

For a moment, Johnny didn’t know what to do. Immediately, he felt guilty. What the fuck had he said that Daniel would react like that? He was ready to take it all back, to slowly back out of the room and give him a moment, like he did when his students would get frustrated, or when girls started crying and yelling at him, and then he realized something was wrong. 

Daniel’s breathing was short, shallow. 

_Fuck._

“Hey, LaRusso, come on,” Johnny took him by the shoulders, his fingers gently pressing. “Come on, I need you to breathe.” 

But there was no response. It was like Daniel couldn’t even hear him. And maybe he couldn’t. Panic filled his chest. What the _fuck_ was he supposed to do now? Quickly, he reached for Daniel’s tie, loosening it from around his neck, unbuttoning the top button. There was no change. 

“Hey,” he tilted Daniel’s chin up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you gotta breathe, LaRusso, come on, you’re scaring me.” Without thinking, he let his thumb wipe away a tear on his cheek. Daniel closed his eyes against the feeling, his breaths still shallow, still too fast. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered. “You’re going to fucking pass out, you asshole.” 

Johnny took Daniel’s hand, tight in a fist, and gently unfurled it, loosening the fingers. “Here,” he said softly, pressing Daniel’s hand into his chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Come on.” He pulled Daniel closer, cradling the back of his head (the better to catch him if he passed out, he rationalized) and guided his head to his shoulder. 

“Breathe with me,” he repeated softly. “It’s okay. I’m right here.” 

He carefully breathed, the way he had seen Robby do at the All Valley Tournament, the way he had seen LaRusso do a thousand times before. He kept his hand over Daniel’s, pressing it into his chest, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering there. 

He didn’t know how long they stood there, Johnny trying desperately to keep his worry in check, trying to be who Daniel had been for him. But eventually, Daniel’s breathing started to even out. He could feel him in his arms, weak and somehow still strong. The hand pressed on Johnny’s chest tightened halfway to a fist, his fingernails digging into the material. 

“We don’t have to talk about Amanda,” Johnny whispered when Daniel pulled back, out of his arms. “We don’t have to.” 

He looked wretched, like whatever he had gone through had taken every bit of his strength. Johnny was momentarily swept up by the idea of carrying this poor bastard to a couch, to his bed, and letting him relax. It was what he deserved, wasn’t it? Instead, he tilted his head toward the couch in the other room and led him over, sitting down beside him. 

“I’ve ruined her life,” Daniel finally says after a long silence. 

Johnny doesn’t say anything. 

“She’s going to leave me, Johnny, and she should,” he adds, and the tears are spilling over again, but his breathing is okay, so Johnny lets them. “I don’t make her happy anymore, because I fucked everything up.” 

He almost speaks here, almost contradicts him. _No,_ he thinks, _I’m the one who fucked everything up. I’m the one who came into your life and ruined it._

“She thought I was cheating on her,” Daniel says, his eyes on his lap. 

“What?” The word comes out of Johnny’s mouth unbidden. 

“And I think she might be right.” 

***

Eli knew something was wrong the moment he walked into Cobra Kai. Usually, the students were all milling around, talking amongst themselves, stretching, warming up. But this time, they were all in a circle, on their knees. Quickly, he checked his phone. He wasn’t late. What the hell was going on? 

He spotted Tory at the front of the room, her arms behind her back, her eyes trained on the mat. He skirted the edge of the circle, trying to get to her, trying to force the other students to make room for him so he could kneel too, but no one would move. 

Dread opened up in his stomach, a sharp pit that made it hard to think straight. 

“Tory, what’s happening?” he hissed. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink. 

He considered, in the back of his mind, leaving. There was nothing good that would come from this. He had done enough karate and had been bullied enough to know when he was standing in the middle of a bad situation. 

“Hawk,” Kreese’s voice was the soundtrack of a nightmare, smooth and cold and menacing. “To the center of the circle.”

Now everyone moved, offering him an opening into the circle. He stepped in warily. Kreese, on the other side of the circle, was doing the same. 

His urge to run compounded, but he knew that there was no getting out now. If he tried to leave, there was an entire group of students ready to stop him. He let his eyes rove over their faces, hoping to find a sympathetic one in the bunch, but they were all staring at the mats, probably to discourage exactly what Eli was looking for. 

“Your fellow Cobra needed assistance today,” Kreese said finally, when Eli was done looking for help he wouldn’t find. “You abandoned her.” 

He wheeled around on Tory, who met his gaze unflinchingly. “I was trying to keep you from getting expelled!” 

“When your sister in battle asks for your help, you provide, no matter the consequences,” Kreese’s voice was booming, loud enough that some in the circle flinched. “That is what Cobra Kai is. It’s a brotherhood. We are kin.” 

He wanted to yell, wanted to scream at Kreese. _This isn’t a battle, you stupid old man, it was an unnecessary schoolyard fight that would have gotten Tory kicked out of school. I was protecting her, I was doing what was right._ But no one would hear him. No one would care. 

“Fighting position,” Kreese ordered, sliding easily into his. 

He thought he might throw up. He’d been in a fair amount of real fights, and in at least a dozen sparring sessions with Kreese, but he knew this was different. This was a punishment. 

There was no bow. 

The first blow caught him in the ribs. The second in the jaw. 

The ring of students around him stayed silent.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Daniel are interrupted. Hawk is searching for a safe place. Daniel insists on being honest.

It was nearing sundown by the time Daniel managed to find his way back home. The day had passed in a blur of nervous activity – he’d been sitting on the couch with Johnny, his pulse thundering in his ears, Johnny’s hand on his leg; he was trying to build the courage to be honest, it’s what Johnny deserved, after all, and then his phone had started ringing. 

Johnny hadn’t looked away from him – he would have been content to ignore the phone to hear what Daniel had to say, and that alone made him feel hope, but it was Anoush, and he only called when it was an emergency. 

So the conversation he’d started had never finished; the dealership was short-staffed and they were swamped, and as much as Anoush respected Daniel’s time away because of all of that “karate stuff” that happened, he really needed a lifeline here. Johnny hadn’t said anything – he’d nodded when Daniel said he had to go, his eyes looking at something far away. 

It was hours later now. There was no telling if Daniel could work up the courage to be that honest again. He hoped he could, because if he knew Johnny, the conversation would have been eating away at him all day. 

But could he be honest now, when he wasn’t woozy from a panic attack, when Johnny wasn’t asking him gently to tell him about his issues with Amanda? Wouldn’t bringing the subject up again only be another instance of infidelity? 

He didn’t know, and the thought alone was exhausting. 

He could see, from the window, the light on in the guest-house. Johnny was in there, probably with Robby. They wouldn’t be able to talk right now, but still, he wanted to see him. 

There it was again, that familiar ache that he wanted painfully not to feel but couldn’t suppress. The want. He shrugged off his jacket and undid his tie, leaving them hanging on the back of the chair and trudged across the way to the guest-house. 

He’d had a hard day, he reasoned. He deserved an indulgent moment. 

***

Johnny was not a good cook. He’d known that before Robby moved in, before he was living in Daniel LaRusso’s guest house, but he hadn’t made it known quite so emphatically before. He had already ruined one box of mac and cheese, the noodles brown and crunchy and hiding at the bottom of the trash can. This time, Robby had offered to help, turning the blue box around so Johnny could see there were definitely directions on the side of it that told you how to make it. 

“You’re such a nerd,” he said, ruffling Robby’s hair. “Reading the directions.” 

“Better than setting off the smoke alarm,” Robby shot back with a grin, his hair falling into his face. 

Moments like that, where he could joke with his son, always felt like a dream. He never bothered to hope that he could be the dad his son needed, so standing here, shoulder to shoulder, peering into a pot of boiling water, felt like he’d been sucked into the Twilight Zone. 

“We should put hot dogs in it,” Robby said with a grin, breaking into Johnny’s thoughts. 

“You’re a goddamn _genius,_ kid,” Johnny patted him on the shoulder and went rummaging through the fridge. “Okay, do we put the hotdogs in now or after the mac and cheese cooks?” 

“After,” Robby laughed. “Don’t put hot dogs in boiling water with hard noodles.” 

“Oh okay, excuse me, chef, I didn’t know you were Gordon Ramsey and shit –”

A quiet knock at the door cut him off. There was only one person who would come by at this hour. He didn’t know if he should let him in or not. He could still hear him: 

_“I think she might be right.”_

He’d thought about that one sentence all afternoon. After Daniel had gotten his call and scrambled out of the house like his ass was on fire, Johnny had been left to stew in what he left behind. Why couldn’t he be fucking clear for once in his damn life? 

_“I think she might be right.”_

What the hell did that mean? Was he seeing some other chick behind Amanda’s back? It didn’t really jive with what he knew about Daniel as a person, but he’d been surprised before. He didn’t want to think about how the idea of Daniel with some random person made him feel queasy, like he was anticipating a punch to the gut that would never come. 

And then there was that day, standing out in the garden, when Johnny had been overcome with the desire to kiss him. Certainly, that was something adults would have a conversation about, right? 

But he sure as shit wasn’t going to have that conversation if Daniel was going to tell him he was skulking around with some skank behind Amanda’s back. 

He refused to think about the morning when he woke up in Daniel’s arms on his couch. There wasn’t anything to look into there, it was just a rough day, they were friends. That’s all. 

Robby left the stove to let Daniel in, the little plastic spatula in his other hand. 

“Smells like gourmet cooking in here,” Daniel remarked, and Robby chuckled with him, muttering something about “dad realized there’s a smoke alarm in here.” 

“Get all your work done?” Johnny asked, looking up from where he was staring at the macaroni, absolutely refusing to ruin it when Daniel could see. 

Daniel’s eyes met his quizzically, like he was trying to figure out if Johnny was mad or not. Truthfully, Johnny didn’t know if he was mad. He was still lost, trying to finish their conversation with only half of the participants. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault that you’re important,” Johnny pointed out, even while his brain was begging him to make some sort of smart ass comment that would piss him off. Beside him, Robby was fumbling with his pants pocket, pulling his ringing phone out of it. 

“Here dad, stir the macaroni and drain it in two minutes.”

“Drain it, what the _fuck_ –” and then Robby was gone, slipping into his room and closing the door. 

“I’ll do it,” Daniel said, gently taking the spatula from Johnny’s hands. They were shoulder to shoulder now, and Johnny felt his stomach tighten. This was it, he thought. They were finally going to finish that conversation. 

“Can we talk in a bit?” Daniel asked. “I – I want to tell you –”

“If you’re screwing around on Amanda, LaRusso, you don’t have to tell me,” Johnny said in a rush, suddenly knowing for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to hear this without losing his shit. 

“Johnny,” Daniel said with a quiet laugh, turning over his shoulder to check on Robby. “I’m with you all day, every day. When would I have the time?” 

He grabbed the pot of macaroni and turned toward the sink, where he drained it, steam rising up out of the sink and obscuring his face. 

“Oh,” Johnny said blankly. 

“You’re hopeless,” he muttered, passing him the pot back as Robby jogged into the room, his eyes wide. 

“That was Sam,” he said, breathless. “Hawk’s hurt.” 

“Hawk?” Johnny asked. “Why would Hawk tell Sam?” He turned to Daniel. “No offense.” 

“Shut up,” Daniel replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hawk called Demetri, Demetri called Sam. Apparently he wants to see you,” Robby said. “Sam’s bringing him over.” 

“Does he need a doctor?” Daniel asked, and Johnny could see, out of the corner of his eye, Daniel rolling up his shirt sleeves. “How hurt is he?” 

Robby shrugged. “She didn’t say. She just said he was asking for Sensei Lawrence.” 

Daniel turned to Johnny. “I have a first aid kit in the house, I’ll be back.” He took Johnny by the arm, a gentle press of his hand, warm and capable and strong. It was a promise, a reminder for later. 

Johnny watched him go. 

When he turned around, Robby was still looking at him. “Finish making your dinner,” he said. “Injured kid or not, you gotta eat.” 

Robby didn’t answer, but turned back to the pot of macaroni and added the powdered cheese and milk. “Have you even seen Hawk since…?”

“No,” Johnny answered. “He went to Kreese’s Cobra Kai.” Just saying it hurt, deep in his chest. “I don’t know what could have happened.” 

That wasn’t necessarily true. He knew what happened. He had been in Hawk’s position plenty of times. He remembered stumbling up the stairs of Bobby’s house, bleeding from his nose, or his lip, Bobby holding him up, telling him that Kreese didn’t mean it, that he wouldn’t do it again, that they were getting stronger. That this was how they became better fighters. 

It chilled him to the bone thinking of it. 

***

Sam let Demetri support Hawk into the guest-house in the back section of what used to be their dojo. She hadn’t answered Demetri’s questions about why they were going to Miyagi-do, or why Johnny would be there at all. It was easier if she didn’t say anything. 

She remembered the way her father had avoided her eyes while he told her about finding Johnny in the ocean, about not knowing if he intended to kill himself or not. How he and Johnny were trying to find a way to make themselves better people, better senseis, even if they would never get to teach again. She remembered how he took her hands and told her that his true purpose was teaching karate, that now that he knew, he couldn’t walk away from it. 

She remembered asking him about Johnny, and how her father had clenched his jaw and looked down at the table and said the words she’d never forget. 

“I know how I feel, but he deserves to know first.” 

She didn’t have to try to understand what that sentence meant. It was clear to her. 

They were waiting for them, her dad, Johnny, and Robby. There was a first aid kit open on the table. They were barely through the door before Johnny was up and at Hawk’s side, taking over where Demetri was starting to struggle. 

“Alright, Hawk, let’s sit you down and see what’s going on.” 

It was as gentle as Sam had ever heard him. There was a sadness around his eyes that she’d never seen before, and even her father, sitting across the room, was looking at him curiously. 

Johnny ignored them all, saying quiet words of comfort to Hawk that only he could hear, and deposited him gently into a chair, Demetri taking the spot beside him.

“I’m sorry, Sensei,” Hawk finally said, and his voice was thick with tears. “I never – I shouldn’t –”

“No apologies,” Johnny said firmly, his fingers gently pressing on Hawk’s face, mottled with crusted blood and bruises starting to bloom. “I don’t need them.” 

“I was so horrible –”

“You did what your mentor told you to do,” Johnny said sternly. “ _He’s_ horrible. Not you.” 

He pulled the first aid kit closer, rustling in it haphazardly, pulling out little wads of alcohol pads. He ripped one open with his teeth and started wiping away the bits of blood, his hand soft and gentle on Hawk’s face. 

Daniel, across the room, stood and took up his post beside him, passing him bits of gauze and more alcohol when he needed it, never speaking. They stayed that way, in silence, until Hawk’s face was as clean as they could get it, save for the bruise on his jaw and eye, rising dark purple and angry. 

“He put you in the circle,” Johnny said, and it wasn’t a question. Sam retreated to the other couch, where Robby and her dad were sitting. 

“The circle?” she asked her dad, who shrugged. 

“Tory tried to fight Aisha at school –”

“She _what_?” Sam jumped up from her spot, and Robby yanked her back down. 

“I made her stop. I didn’t want her to get expelled, but she told Kreese, and he told me I had to be punished for –”

“Not backing up a fellow Cobra,” Johnny finished darkly. “Yeah, I’m familiar with it.” 

“She didn’t even try to stop him,” a tear slid down his cheek from his unbruised eye. “We were friends.” He wiped it away angrily. “I like karate, Sensei, it makes me feel like I belong. Like I’m not a kid with a stupid lip who used to get picked on. But this? This is different. I can’t – I can’t do it anymore.” 

“You’re quitting Cobra Kai?” Johnny asked. “That’s…well, that’s very ballsy of you, Hawk.”

“He put you in a circle and –”

“He makes you fight him,” Johnny told Daniel without looking at him. “Makes you feel pain like you’ve never felt.” 

Beside him, Daniel clenched his hands tightly, his eyes falling on the scars that marred his knuckles. Hawk dropped his elbows to the table and let his head fall into them. Johnny put his hand on his back and left it there, a gentle reminder of his presence. 

“He did that to you?” Daniel asked Johnny, who looked down at Hawk and didn’t answer. Sam could see, from her spot on the couch, her dad going tense, anger starting to take over. He loved to preach balance, but his temper could explode if it wasn’t checked. 

And then Johnny’s hand reached over and took his, just long enough to loosen the tight fist he found there, and Daniel relaxed. 

“If you think you need to step away from karate, Hawk, then you should,” Johnny finally said. 

“I can’t,” his voice was muffled, and Demetri, beside him, looked down at him in concern. He hadn’t said anything since they got here, his mouth in a thin line, his face pale. “They’ll just keep coming. They won’t leave me alone.” 

“Then come to Miyagi-do,” Daniel said. 

Johnny looked up at him, surprise etched in the lines of his face. Daniel’s eyes met his. 

“Dad,” Sam said from the couch, where Robby had sat up straight. “You’re – you’re reopening?” 

“I think we have to,” Daniel said with a shrug. “Robby has to train, per the court order. If other students decide they want to train with us, that’s up to them.” 

Demetri reached for Hawk’s shoulder. “See? You could train with us!” 

But Hawk was looking at Johnny. “Sensei?” 

“I’ll always be a Cobra at heart,” he said. “But for now, I’m Team Miyagi.” 

Sam didn’t want to ask the question that she couldn’t shake. _What about Mom? What are we going to tell Mom?_

But her dad was looking down at Johnny Lawrence with true, unbridled happiness, and she couldn’t bring herself to ruin it. 

***

Johnny insisted on calling Hawk’s mother to come pick him up. Hawk met her in the driveway, a ready-made excuse prepared for her. It was just a rough practice, he’d said, reassuring her that the bruises were less painful than they were. They were learning new techniques and it took him a while to get it. Johnny wasn’t sure that she would buy it (his mother never did), but he climbed into the car and they drove away, Demetri in the backseat. 

When he came back inside, Daniel was cleaning up the mess of alcohol swabs on the table and Robby and Sam were in his room. He could hear them laughing. It steadied him, hearing Robby laugh. 

“So…” he said to Daniel, who looked up at him from the table, his hands full of Band-Aid wrappers. “Miyagi-do.” 

“I know I never actually told you, but it seemed like the right thing to do,” he said. “For Robby and for the rest of them.”

“No argument here,” Johnny said, picking up the little pieces that Daniel lost on his way to the trash can. 

“You’ll still teach with me, then?” Daniel asked. 

“You still want me to?” 

“I mean, we’ll see how it goes,” Daniel joked. “The Way of the Fist is pretty relentless.” 

“You’re damn right,” Johnny chuckled. “Relentless and badass.” 

“Sure,” Daniel nodded, looking toward Robby’s bedroom, where he could hear Sam talking. “I’m going to take this first aid kit back over,” he said, meeting Johnny’s gaze. “Come with me?” 

It felt very high school, hearing Daniel talk in some haphazard code, but still, Johnny felt a little thrill when he nodded. Daniel had promised to finish their conversation from earlier. Perhaps this would be their only opportunity today. 

They didn’t speak on their short walk over, but Johnny could see Daniel’s hands, always hyperactive and moving, tensing and untensing, flexing and unflexing, at his sides. He couldn’t decide if that was foreboding or not. 

He let Daniel put the first aid kit away without speaking. He sat on the couch, where they had been sitting earlier in the day, before they’d been interrupted. By the time Daniel came to sit beside him again, he was anxiously tapping his foot on the floor, picking at his fingernails. 

“I don’t know,” Daniel said haltingly, “I don’t really know where to begin.” 

“You think she might be right,” Johnny said. “What does that mean?” 

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, his lip between his teeth, trying to find the right words. “It means,” he said slowly, “it means that not all cheating is physical.” 

Johnny narrowed his eyes at him. There was a snarky comment on the edge of his tongue, asking to be said, but Daniel kept going, his eyes meeting Johnny’s in a _don’t say shit_ way that made him smile. 

“I remember someone telling me once that if you are having conversations that you wouldn’t tell your spouse about, or doing things you don’t want them to know about, you feel guilty for a reason,” he said leadingly, as if hoping Johnny would jump in and save him from actually saying it. 

But Johnny didn’t say anything. It was clear to him, suddenly, where this conversation was going. So clear, in fact, he felt like a complete fucking _moron_ for not predicting it sooner. He felt dread pooling in his gut even while his chest ballooned with hope. Anything Daniel said next couldn’t be taken back. It would have to be addressed, have to be acknowledged. And then they would have to admit that they’d been dancing around it for far too long. 

“You know, we don’t have to talk about this –” Daniel said suddenly, standing up from where he was sitting. “We don’t – we don’t have to –”

Johnny couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t said anything in too long, and Daniel probably felt like he was trying to figure out how to get out of the conversation. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? I understand? Me too, bro? Everything felt too casual, like Daniel would think he was turning this into a joke. 

“Daniel, sit down,” he took him by the hand and pulled him back down. 

It must have been the use of his first name that shook him, because he let Johnny yank him back down to the couch, his brown eyes wide and searching. Still, Johnny couldn’t settle on the right words to say. 

“I wish I was better at this,” he said finally, frustrated. 

“Better at what?” Daniel asked. Johnny looked up at him, expecting to see a joke in his eyes, but he was begging for Johnny to say something, _anything._

“You’re right,” Johnny agreed. “I am hopeless.” 

And he took him by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 

He could feel Daniel sag with relief against him, pulling away for a moment to huff a laugh before coming back for a better seal of their lips. Johnny let him lead, offering up whatever he wanted to take. But Daniel was gentle, soft, his hands on the side of Johnny’s face. It was relief, comfort, all the words they couldn’t find to say out loud. He remembered, with a jolt, kissing Ali, or Shannon. They all kissed him like he wanted it rough, like he wanted them to be harder than they were. But this was different. This was reverent, languid, the kiss of time, a kiss that said this was nowhere near the last. 

He felt like a teenager, making out on a couch he wasn’t familiar with, holding a body he thought he knew in his hands, exploring gently. Daniel’s shirt was still tucked in, and Johnny was painfully aware of their kids in the other house, so he left it as it was, trying to tell his hands not to untuck the shirt, no matter how much he wanted to touch bare skin. Still, all rational thought was hard when Daniel’s tongue was in his mouth, commanding and gentle all at the same time. Daniel hummed against his lips, pushing Johnny back into the couch, his hands leaving Johnny’s face to find his arms, his chest. 

For a moment, Johnny thought Daniel was going to climb on top of him on the couch, and the idea was thrilling, so tantalizing he almost pulled Daniel over himself, and then they heard the door to the guest house open. 

They sprang apart, breathing heavily. 

“Dad?” Sam’s voice was still outside. “I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.” 

Daniel jumped up from the couch, trying to straighten his hair (who had messed it up? Johnny couldn’t remember) and his pants, his face flushed red. 

“Okay, sweetie, I’ll be right there,” he called out, his eyes on Johnny. 

“I should go see Robby,” Johnny said, standing. 

“Yeah,” Daniel said slowly, as if his mind were trying to work through something quickly. “Come back tomorrow morning?” 

Johnny grinned, his stomach clenching in anticipation. 

“Yes, Sensei,” he smirked. Daniel’s face flushed red again, and he left him like that, trying to remember the last time he felt this happy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Daniel have a lunch date. We check in on Robby, Sam, Eli, Demetri, Tory, Moon, and Amanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is precious little LawRusso in this chapter and for that, I apologize!

Johnny spent the night trying to force himself to sleep. He had work in the morning, he had a kid to take to and from school. But he had also promised to see Daniel in the morning, the promise definitely more than just for a quick chat before they went their separate ways. He felt like a kid again, trying to go to sleep before Christmas Day, staring up at the ceiling, wishing that every time he closed his eyes, the day would have rushed forward already, all the more convenient for him. 

In many things, Johnny knew himself to be a pessimist. He attributed that to Kreese, Sid, and a bunch of other things, but in this, he couldn’t help but feel optimistic. Maybe that was naïve, maybe he was setting himself up for more inevitable pessimism, but still, he smiled when he thought about pulling Daniel to him on the couch, on the way his face flushed red when they broke apart. 

He drifted off to sleep and woke to his alarm, tired deep in his bones. Still, he forced himself up and into the shower. It didn’t matter how tired he was; he had a date to keep. 

He thought about putting on something special, but he was just going next door, after all, and he would have to take Robby to school and go straight to work after, so he put on a black sleeveless shirt and a worn flannel one over it, using the extra care to adjust his hair in the mirror before he jogged over to the main house. 

He forced himself to slow to a walk as he approached the door, aware of appearing too eager. _Come on, Lawrence, be cool,_ he told himself. 

He found Daniel standing at the kitchen counter, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, a plate of toast in his hand. He stood in the open doorway, content to just take him in, now that he could. It looked like, from afar, Daniel had slept far better than he did. His hair was perfect (how he longed to mess it up), his suit was pressed, a dark gray number with a black shirt that Johnny liked better than his black suits. His hands were occupied, capable and strong, the skin of his arms tantalizingly soft-looking. 

“Hey,” he said finally, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. _Good morning,_ he thought in the aftermath, _just say fucking good morning, you idiot._

Daniel turned to greet him, a smile taking over his face. Johnny didn’t move, lest he break the spell. 

“Hey,” he replied, his voice soft. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Ninja and shit,” Johnny said. 

“I –” Daniel looked him up and down and cleared his throat. “I made breakfast. If – if you’re hungry.” 

“I could eat,” Johnny said, and Daniel laughed, full and deep. He’d said almost the same thing to him months ago, right after almost kicking him into his pool in his big house in Encino. 

How different everything was now. 

They sat at the little table, saying little, catching each other’s gazes over toast, bacon, and eggs, Daniel sipping from some tiny ass cup, Johnny drinking orange juice. It was a comfortable silence, Johnny thought, a morning they could both get used to. He glanced down at his shitty plastic watch on his wrist. 

They could get used to it, but he was running out of time. 

Daniel caught his eye movement. “Going somewhere?” he asked, a smile playing around his mouth like he already knew the answer. 

Johnny narrowed his eyes at him. “Robby has to get to school soon,” he said slowly, trying to catch the trap before it caught him. “The fuck is that face for, LaRusso?” 

“Nothing,” Daniel shrugged. “Finish your breakfast.” 

“I know of a much better way I’d like to be spending my time,” Johnny hinted, as Daniel’s foot found his under the table. 

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? Well, you have manual labor to do all day, so finish your breakfast, and then you can do what you like.” 

Johnny never wolfed down a breakfast so fast. 

When he was finished, Daniel let him crowd him against the kitchen counter and kiss him, long and deep and comfortable, Daniel’s mouth bitter like his espresso, his lips kind like the night before. Daniel slipped his hands underneath the flannel shirt, skimming down his arms, forcing the shirt down and out of his way. 

“What time do you need to leave for work?” Johnny asked against his mouth, his hands fastened firmly on Daniel’s hips. 

Daniel glanced down at his watch (some stupid computer watch thing) and shrugged. “An hour or so, why?” 

“Good,” Johnny said, diving back in for another kiss, yanking Daniel’s shirt out from his pants, his hands finding the thin undershirt. “What the fuck is this shit, LaRusso?” he asked, exasperated. 

“It’s an undershirt,” Daniel protested, scandalized. “It’s standard.” 

“God, you’re like a Puritan,” Johnny groaned, resting his forehead on Daniel’s. “How many layers do I have to get past?” 

Daniel laughed, his own hands on Johnny’s arms, hands tight around the muscle. “You don’t have the time to find out,” he said softly. “You need to take Robby to school.” 

Johnny growled, the sound deep in his throat, and kissed Daniel once, twice, three times on the lips. “Fine,” he whined, drawing out the word. “But when I get home tonight, I want that suit gone. I’m sick of it. Cockblock.” 

“I’ll get those khaki cargo shorts out you like so much,” Daniel called after him. 

“You’re such a dad,” Johnny sneered back at him affectionately. Daniel blew him a kiss with the finger and turned away, leaving Johnny to trot back over to the guest house with a smile on his face. 

“Let’s go, boy wonder, you gotta get to school!” he called out into the house, taking in Robby’s backpack on the chair by the door. “You only get like…three absences or something insane like that.” 

Robby stuck his head out of his bedroom. “Oh, there you are. Where did you go?” 

Johnny shrugged, feeling his ears go warm. “Next door. Stealing LaRusso’s orange juice.” 

Robby gave him a sneaky smile that Johnny couldn’t decipher. “Oh, okay. Well, Sam is coming to pick me up. Miguel is getting out of the hospital today, so we’re all going to see him. I’m just going to miss homeroom,” he added before Johnny could say anything. “They don’t take attendance until third period.” 

“Miguel is getting out today?” Johnny asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He still wasn’t sure how to discuss his surrogate son with his biological son. To his credit, Robby seemed largely unbothered. 

“Yep,” he said, stuffing a book into his backpack. “So I don’t need a ride until pick up today.” 

“Cool, I’ve got you penciled in,” Johnny said. Robby gave him a funny look on his way out the door, his phone ringing in his hand. It was then that Johnny realized he’d left the house with a flannel shirt on and come back without one. His was still on the floor of LaRusso’s kitchen.

“On my way out,” Johnny heard Robby say as the door closed behind him. 

For a moment, Johnny was tempted to fixate on Miguel, on his release from the hospital. But he couldn’t be there, not when Carmen still didn’t want him anywhere near her son. No, that would take time to fix. 

And then he remembered that Daniel had another half hour before he had to leave for work. Now he did, too. 

***

Robby wished he felt as at ease as he must have looked to his father on his way out the door. He hung up his phone, slipping it into his pocket, and felt how his hands fumbled with the material, not quite shaking, but definitely unsteady. He knew that Miguel had convinced his mom to go easy on him in court, Sam explained that he didn’t have any hard feelings, but that didn’t make him feel any less nervous.

These people, they were his friends, and they were Miguel’s, too. If Miguel decided that he was going to hold a grudge, all of his friends would be gone in an instant. 

Sam was looking at her phone when he slipped into the car, dropping his backpack on the floor by his feet. She smiled at him, bright and sunny, and threw the car in reverse. 

“It’s going to be fine,” she said in that quiet way of hers, somehow understanding his fear without having to discuss it. “I promise.” 

They drove in silence for a while, content to listen to music and feel how early the morning was. They were always like this before school – no talking unless it was necessary. All the better to pretend we could still be asleep. 

“Um,” Sam finally said, when her Dua Lipa playlist ended, “I just – I know I apologized, before, about…kissing Miguel –”

“Apology accepted,” Robby said, waving his hand. “Really, you don’t have to apologize again. We’re friends, right?” 

She looked hugely relieved. “Yeah, we’re friends.” She pushed the home button on her phone and restarted her playlist. They rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence. 

They were the last ones to arrive at the hospital. Aisha, Demetri, Moon, and Hawk were already there, standing in the parking lot, leaning on Aisha’s car. He felt, suddenly, like it was the first day of school and he was walking by all of the cool, popular kids, who would never want to hang out with him. 

And then Moon looked up and gave him a wave, and his nerves settled, just a little bit. 

“We got the banner!” Aisha said, holding up a rolled bit of canvas. “Look, here, Demetri, take one end.” 

They unrolled it, a huge WELCOME HOME MIGUEL banner, covered in red, yellow, and black. Mercifully, there were no cobras on it, but Robby was reminded again, forcibly, how they had all been enemies only a few weeks ago. There were two Cobras and three Miyagi students out here, in the early morning, standing in a parking lot, pulled apart and brought together by karate. 

The nerves were back – he heaved a deep breath through his nose, reminded suddenly of the kata that Mr. LaRusso would have him do when he was losing his focus. He closed his eyes, going through the motions in his head. 

“Why don’t you come stand by me?” Moon’s voice was gentle, and when he opened his eyes, she was holding out a steel cup with a metal straw. “I brought you a green smoothie. Thought you might need a pick-me-up.” 

He sidled up next to her, on one side of the banner, where they weren’t needed to hold anything. He took the smoothie gratefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It’s just –”

“Nerve-wracking,” she said. “I know. But I think it’s really mature of you to be here, to make the effort.” She slid her free hand into his and squeezed. 

He looked down at her, into her wide, honest eyes, and tried to think of something to say, something that would show her how much he appreciated her and all of her gestures, all of her small comforts that added up to a huge helping hand in the aftermath of the brawl. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze openly, and when he didn’t speak, she got up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. 

“I know,” she said, turning her gaze forward as Miguel was wheeled out of the hospital, the brace still on his neck. 

***

Amanda wasn’t sure when being at the dealership with Daniel was going to get easier, but she liked to think she was mature enough to handle it. The employees didn’t need to know about their personal business, so while they were working, they made the effort not to avoid each other, to work the way they did before. 

But there was always something in the way Daniel carried himself, the way his shoulders were set, something in the lines of his eyes that reminded her that while she was dealing with a lot, so was he. It was hard to resent him for that, even if a tiny, hurt piece of her did. 

Still, she was bigger than that piece. 

But today he was different. He was wearing his gray suit, something he only did when he was in a good mood. When he felt insecure, he thought the gray suit was unflattering, or made him look like he was trying too hard. But today he wore it confidently, his shoulders set and proud and his eyes unburdened. She watched as he walked up to the sales desk, picked up the reports from the inbox, and flipped through them, humming to the music wafting through the speakers. The same music he’d just insisted was bland and irritating a few days before. 

She had very few illusions about where things were headed with Daniel. There were only two possible outcomes to something like this, and she suspected she knew where they would fall. It would be awkward, and messy, and surely it wouldn’t fix everything, but it would fix some things. 

If he deserved to be happy, then so did she, right? 

Still, that didn’t make her feel better. 

“Mandy,” her nickname shook her from her reverie and she had to turn almost completely around to find Anoush, leaning against the counter behind her, holding a cup of coffee. “You alright? I said your name like three times.” 

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Yeah, I am. Shall we move this discussion to my office?” 

Anoush’s probing eyes left hers to find Daniel, who was chatting with one of the new salespeople. “Do you want to grab Daniel for this?” 

She smiled, hoping that he couldn’t see the sadness in it. “No, I don’t think we need him.” 

***

Johnny had a million questions he wanted to ask Robby the moment he got into the car that afternoon. _How was Miguel, did you guys talk, was Carmen there, was she angry? Is he still in that neck brace? Are you okay?_ All of the questions were jumbling around in his mind, so much that when Robby got into the car and shut the door behind him, he couldn’t think of what to say first. 

“Whose cup is that?” he said instead, pointing to a white metal cup in Robby’s hand. “Looks girly.” 

“It’s Moon’s,” Robby said, putting it into the cup holder. 

“Moon, huh?” Johnny asked. “Some hippy girl that’s into you?” 

“Hawk’s ex-girlfriend,” Robby explained. 

“Shit,” Johnny said, though he wasn’t sure what he meant by it. 

“She’s been a really good friend since the whole fight,” Robby said, as if he hadn’t heard him. “I dunno, Dad, I really like her.” 

“Well, girls don’t just…give guys cups…if they don’t like them,” Johnny said with a shrug. “I mean, I guess, I don’t really know. The cup thing is pretty weird.” 

“Shut up,” Robby said, his serious face melting into a grin. He sat there in silence for a moment before he said, “I suppose you want the whole download? On Miguel?” 

“Download?” Johnny repeated. “I want the scoop, not the download.” 

“It’s the same – never mind,” Robby waved him off as Johnny peeled out of the parking lot. “He went home this morning, but he’s got a lot of physical therapy to do. He told me to tell you hi.” 

“And Carmen?” 

“She didn’t really talk to me,” Robby said tentatively. “Not that I expected her to, though.” 

Johnny nodded, releasing his hand from the steering wheel to pat his son on the shoulder. “It was nice of you to go,” he said, because it felt like the right thing to say. 

“I think so too,” Robby agreed. 

They rode in silence for a while, Johnny trying to decide what to ask next. But he didn’t want Robby to think that he cared more about Miguel than he did him. Is this how parents with more than one kid felt all of the time? He made a mental note to ask Daniel about it later. 

“Dad?” Robby finally asked. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Johnny said. “But if it’s for help on your homework, I’ve got bad news for you –”

“Are you and Mr. LaRusso having an affair?”

They were lucky they were already out of the suburbs and there were fewer cars on the road. Johnny wasn’t proud of the fact that the question caught him so off-guard that he swerved, but there it was. Robby was looking at him from the passenger seat, his eyes so bright and blue that Johnny figured he was only asking because he already knew the answer. 

“Why – why would you ask me that?” he said finally, after the silence had gone on far too long. 

“Well, there was the missing shirt this morning,” Robby pointed out. “But uh, you guys aren’t exactly subtle.” 

“Okay, rude,” Johnny said, trying to read Robby’s expression without looking away from the road for too long. “I – I don’t know,” he said finally. “It’s new.” 

“What about Mrs. LaRusso?” 

Here Johnny wasn’t sure what to say. _I’m pretty sure she knows?_ That wouldn’t make sense to Robby, who had probably dealt with his sexuality in a pretty passive way thus far. Besides, Amanda had been a surrogate mom to him. This was, by definition, a betrayal where Amanda was concerned. 

“They’re…I’m not sure what’s going on there, yet,” Johnny finally said, settling on as much truth as he could bear. “There are discussions going on that I’m not really a part of.” 

He was worried, the longer Robby didn’t say anything, that he had finally succeeded in doing something that would inevitably drive his son away permanently. Wasn’t having an affair with his son’s married karate teacher something a middle-aged woman would watch on _Lifetime_ in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday? It was something that had layers of conflict, tons of complications. 

“I just,” Robby started and then stopped, and Johnny could finally look at him, parked in the driveway. “I want you to be happy. Both of you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Holy shit, Johnny thought as Robby grabbed the little white cup and his backpack and got out of the car. His son was wiser than he realized. 

***

The first thing Tory noticed when she walked into Cobra Kai that afternoon was that Hawk wasn’t there. It wasn’t that she was looking for him, per se, because she had resigned herself to not bothering anymore where he was concerned, but it was easy to spot him when he was there, so the absence of the bright red mohawk was conspicuous. 

“Miss Nichols,” Sensei Kreese’s voice was dark, harder than usual. “My office.” 

She felt dread pool in her gut. He was sitting behind the desk, the way Sensei Lawrence used to, his feet up on the desk. She moved to sit in the chair across from him, but he shook his head at her and she remained standing, awkwardly hovering between standing at attention and not. 

“Where is Mr. Moskowitz?” Kreese asked, pulling the unlit cigar out of his mouth. 

Tory blinked. “I – I don’t know, Sensei.” 

“You didn’t see him at school?” Kreese asked. 

Truthfully, she had skipped school. “No,” she lied. 

“I worry that our last session might have been too difficult for him,” Kreese continued. She silently agreed. “It’s imperative that we get him back into the fold.” 

“I’m sure he’s just late,” Tory reassured him. “Or maybe he’s sick. He’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“I hope so,” Kreese said, just heavily enough that Tory could tell he meant for her to do something about it. “Because Hawk is our best chance at winning the All Valley Tournament this year.” 

_Wait, what? What about her?_

“Sensei,” she said haltingly. “I thought –”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miss Nichols,” Kreese waved off her protestations before she could say them. “Now go warm up.” 

She stood there for a moment longer, staring at him, hoping he’d say something different. She hoped, even though she knew he wouldn’t, that he would encourage her rather than push her out the door. 

“Go,” he said, sharply this time, and she obeyed. 

***

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” Demetri said, looking at Eli in the mirror. “I mean, I’m not qualified, this is technically heavy machinery, and I’m on Claritin, which, as you know, means I’m not supposed to operate heavy machinery –”

“Dude,” Eli interrupted. “I just want you to turn on the clippers and cut the mohawk off. That’s it. Nothing fancy.” 

“What if I shave your head bald?” Demetri asked, his eyes wide in the mirror. “What if –”

“What was it that Shia LeBeouf said in that stupid viral video?” Eli asked. 

“Just do it?” 

“Just fucking do it, Demetri!” Eli goaded, getting down on his knees in the bathroom. “Just cut it off.” 

Demetri’s eyes met his in the mirror, and Eli gave him a reassuring smile, one he couldn’t remember giving anyone for a long time. It felt good to work those muscles again. Demetri smiled back at him and turned on the clippers. 

“Ready?” he asked, putting one hand on Eli’s shoulder. Eli reached up and put his hand over his. 

“Just do it,” he said softly, watching as the red fell away to reveal the Eli he remembered.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda finally finds out about what Daniel's been up to. Johnny and Daniel are forced to think about longevity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting closer to the end, everyone! I expect there to be maybe two or three chapters left, including an epilogue! Thanks for reading!

Miyagi-do reopened two weeks later, Daniel bright and bouncing and so excited he could barely hold himself still, Johnny still wary and cautious. Everything seemed like it was going too well, too easily. He met Daniel for breakfast every morning, trading kisses over coffee, secret smiles during shared dinners with Sam and Robby, hands threaded together under the table. 

Still, Johnny didn’t dare bring up Amanda again, but she loomed over him constantly, her big blue eyes watching him accusingly in his nightmares, the downturn of her mouth constantly on his mind. He knew that Daniel needed control – he craved it – and not being able to control how Amanda would react to them or to Miyagi-do reopening would drive him to procrastinate telling her. He knew Daniel well enough to know how his mind worked. 

That didn’t mean he was willing to break their spell by bringing his wife up in conversation. 

He knew that was a mistake, but he couldn’t stop himself from making it. 

***

Amanda didn’t like that Sam was becoming secretive. She expected it, of course, all teenagers were, to an extent. But Sam wasn’t like most teenagers. She made smart decisions, often enough that she recognized when she was making a bad one. Those were the ones she kept from her mother. At least, that’s what Amanda thought. 

She knew Miguel had gotten out of the hospital, and Sam was going to visit him, taking him to physical therapy whenever Carmen was stuck at work. She knew that a few times a week, she had dinner with Daniel. She had initially planned to call him and compare information with him, if only so she could figure out what Sam was hiding, but truthfully, she’d been too scared to do it. 

She’d told him to figure things out, but she always imagined that he’d take a week, or two, and then he’d come home. But that time had passed, and not only was he not home, but they had hardly spoken since he left. 

Martial disputes aside, Sam was hiding something – she knew it. She would avoid her mother’s gaze when Amanda asked her what she did that day, she would text and then put her phone face down on the table, and now, suddenly, she was going for jogs again, unprompted. 

She glanced up from the dining room table, where she had inevitably started studying the knots in the wood, deep in her thoughts, as Sam trotted by her, a duffel bag over her shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” Amanda asked, catching Sam so by surprise she dropped her phone. She bent hastily to pick it up, turning off the screen before she could see anything on it. 

“To the gym,” she said evasively. 

Amanda crossed her arms. “You went for a jog this morning.” 

She shrugged. “It’s arm day,” she said weakly. 

“Sweetie –”

“ _Mom_ ,” she cut her off. “You can trust me.” 

“Not when you’re lying to me,” Amanda replied. “And don’t play coy. You are lying.” 

Sam shifted from foot to foot, her eyes darting around the room. Amanda was momentarily glad she’d raised a terrible liar. “It’s –” she sighed. “It’s not my place to be honest,” she said finally. “But,” she glanced at her Apple Watch. “I really have to go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” 

“ _Sam!_ ” 

But she was already out and down the driveway, the duffel bag bouncing against her hip, a grimace on her face that Amanda caught as she got into the driver’s seat of her little white convertible. 

She grabbed her keys and her purse the moment Sam slipped out of sight down the driveway. She didn’t want to be this mom, she had always promised that she wouldn’t do what her mother did to her as a teenager. But something in Sam’s tone told her that following her would be the only way to get to the bottom of whatever this was. 

A pit of dread opened in her stomach. 

***

Daniel was nervous – more than nervous, in fact. He was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Johnny, beside him, put his hand gently on the small of his back, where his thumb rubbed little half-moon shapes soothingly. It didn’t really help. 

He wanted to be excited that Miyagi-do was reopening, and he _was_. But he felt guilty, so overwhelmingly guilty that it threatened to swallow him whole. Amanda had strictly forbade him from going back to karate, and reopening meant he was adding another lie to his list of indiscretions against his wife. 

He couldn’t tell Johnny that, not while Johnny was top of the list of indiscretions. He didn’t want to jeopardize what they had, this hamlet of exploration, of newfound peace. But no matter how much you wanted peace, you had to go through war to get it. 

“I’m going to go say hi to some of the kids,” Johnny said quietly when he spotted Sam jogging up to the front door, a worried pinch in her brow. Daniel watched him go, as if trying to capture one last moment before the real world came in. 

“Dad,” Sam was out of breath, the curly hair in her braid already slipping free and falling around her face. “Mom.” 

“What about her?” Daniel asked, but he didn’t need to. There was only one reason Sam would be running. 

“She followed me here,” Sam said. “She caught me leaving the house, and I didn’t want to say –”

“It’s alright,” Daniel reassured her. “I shouldn’t – I should never have asked you keep this secret for me. I should have been honest with her.” 

“Here’s your chance,” she said as another car pulled into the driveway. “I’m going to take the students out…farther into the yard,” she said worriedly, her brow furrowed. “Maybe past the pond.” 

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said. “Can you –” he paused, trying to decide if he should finish the statement or not. “Can you tell Johnny that she’s here, but to stay with the kids?” 

She gave him a sad smile. “Of course.” 

She had barely made it out the door before Amanda was standing at the open front door, her jaw tight. Daniel could see she was furious, and hurt, but he still felt a sharp ache in his chest at the sight of her. He’d still missed her, even with all of the distractions, even with all of Johnny on his mind all of the time. He could feel it now, all of it bubbling up at the sight of her. 

“You’ve got to be _joking_ ,” she said, her voice deadly quiet. “I _know_ our daughter didn’t lie to me to come here, to you, to do _karate_.” 

She stepped farther into the house, letting the front door close behind her. He watched her take in the house – obviously lived in, with Johnny’s shoes by the front door, two cups in the sink. 

“She knew I wanted to tell you myself,” he said finally, because everything else he could think to say would come out wrong. “She was just doing what I asked her to do.” 

“And that’s exactly the problem,” Amanda sneered, but there were tears shining in her eyes. “She’s always doing what you asked her to do, never mind what it could cost her.” 

“She made this decision herself –”

“Because her father, her _hero_ , told her it was okay,” Amanda snapped. “She would do anything you asked her to do, including keep this a secret from me. Since when you put your daughter in the middle?” 

“I didn’t mean to –”

“Of _course_ you didn’t,” she interrupted. “You never do. But even when you don’t mean it, your actions have consequences. Huge ones, for all of us. I mean, do I even have a husband anymore?” 

He didn’t say anything. There was nothing for him to say. She stared at him, waiting out his silence, knowing that his compulsive need to fill any quiet would do him in eventually, but before his patience could run out, he heard Johnny’s voice carry over the yard. 

“Alright, everybody fall in!” 

Amanda’s eyes went to the back door, and went back to him, her mouth falling open. “He’s here.” 

“He lives here,” he said, hurriedly adding, “in the guest house. With Robby.” 

It didn’t matter what he added, or how quickly he did it. The tears spilled over, disappearing as soon as they appeared, and Amanda didn’t even look like she was aware of them. He looked away – the guilt was bearing him down, pushing him down the same way her betrayed gaze was. He didn’t want to fight – couldn’t fight. Not when he knew he was as far in the wrong as he’d ever been. 

“I told you –” she began, and there was a throaty shake to her voice that she only got when she was holding back tears; he hadn’t heard it in a long time, “I told you to figure it out. I didn’t mean –”

“I know –”

“It’s an _affair,_ Daniel,” she wasn’t yelling, but her voice broke all the same, and he wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to console her, but he knew nothing he said was going to make it better. “You let karate take over your life and tear it apart and you’re just going to keep letting it happen. You’re going to keep letting _him_ happen.” 

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing out the back door, where he could just barely see the back of Johnny’s head, the back of the black headband. 

“Is this something you need to just get out of your system?” she asked when he didn’t speak. “Is this something you’re going to get tired of in a week, two weeks?” 

He could see that he could save everything, his entire life, if he just said yes. He could see that Amanda really wanted to forgive him – she was always quick to forgive, even when she knew he didn’t deserve it. It would be easy, for a while, to say yes, to move back into his house, with his wife and children, and forget all about this. He could even probably let Miyagi-do go, for a while. 

But a while would never be forever. And then they’d be here again, asking the same questions. 

“No.” 

***

Daniel didn’t show up to the first practice of Miyagi-do. Johnny ran it by himself, with Sam standing on one side, Robby on the other. They had moved the students through kata, Robby raising his eyebrows when he caught Johnny mirroring them at the back of the group, if only so he would have something to do that would occupy his mind. But still, he couldn’t stop thinking about what could possibly be going on inside the house. 

He heard Amanda’s voice once, loud and hurt, but then nothing. 

Once kata was done, Johnny took his place at the front of the group and moved the students through the basics. It had been a while for everyone, including himself. Even their jab punches were sloppy. He watched as Sam winced every time her punch or kick felt wrong, overthinking the same way her dad did. 

“Miss LaRusso,” he said finally, catching her momentarily terrified gaze. “Can you pair everyone up? Let’s spend some time working on blocks.” 

He wanted her to be as distracted as possible. He could see her eyes going to the house every few seconds, a worried twist to her mouth. Even Robby’s joking kicks in her direction weren’t enough to keep her focused. 

Eli’s arrival halfway through practice had been a distraction for them all, enough that Johnny could almost forget why Daniel wasn’t there, waxing poetic about philosophy and all of that other Miyagi shit that he always blathered on about. The bruises on Eli’s face were faded by now, but there was still a tender way he carried himself, like he was trying to shift around in his skin, that Johnny felt, and understood. 

And then, as soon as it began, training was over, and everyone was slowly filtering out through the gate, and then Johnny was left alone with Sam and Robby. 

“Should I go check on them?” Sam finally asked, pulling out her braid and letting her hair blow in the gentle wind. Johnny didn’t say anything – he didn’t know how much she knew, how much she suspected. After he didn’t speak, Robby gave her a nod, and she tentatively went into the house, far braver than Johnny would have been, if he were honest, and a few seconds later, she was back, her brow furrowed. 

“They’re gone.” 

***

Night had securely fallen by the time Johnny realized that he could hear the sound of an engine in the yard. He had systematically (and far too quickly) worked his way through all of the beer in his house ( _Daniel’s_ house, his brain mocked), and some of the whiskey that he’d kept hidden under the sink for some reason. 

He wanted to get to his feet, to see if it was Daniel coming home or if Robby had come home after his dinner out with Sam, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. What if it wasn’t Daniel? What if he’d gone home to Encino with his wife, and he wasn’t coming back here at all? Besides, he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, and he was pretty sure he’d fall over if he tried to get up now.

So instead, he let his head fall back onto the couch and sighed, reaching for his bottle of beer, now only containing whiskey that he’d poured in after the beer had started to run out, and stretched his legs out underneath the little coffee table. 

And then there was a gentle knock at the door, and all of the hope he didn’t realize he was harboring slipped out of him. It was just Robby, coming home. He cleared his throat, preparing himself to pretend to be sober, even if Robby would see right through him. 

“John?” 

He was wrong again. Daniel stepped through the unlocked front door, his eyes finding Johnny almost instantly. Johnny didn’t say anything, but drank more, wincing past the taste. He was far past tasting anything, but the burn was still there. 

“You’re drunk.” 

Johnny shrugged, the movement messy and uncoordinated, and Daniel stepped farther into the house, making sure to close the door behind him. He was still in the clothes he was going to wear to the reopening of Miyagi-do, and for some reason, the sight of the clothes comforted him. 

“You came back,” he said, regretting the words the moment he said them. He had meant to say something else, something scathing so Daniel would know that he hadn’t sat here drinking beer all evening, driving himself up the wall with the possibility that Daniel wasn’t coming back.

Daniel furrowed his brow, looking so much like Sam that Johnny had to avert his eyes. “Of course I came back,” he said, taking the seat beside Johnny on the couch. His hand found Johnny’s shoulder, his thumb just barely touching his neck. “I went to Mr. Miyagi’s grave,” he said softly. “I wanted to talk to him.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry I missed training,” his voice was soft, comforting, and Johnny closed his eyes so it could envelope him. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “Your daughter is a better teacher than you.” 

Daniel swatted his shoulder lightly, soothing the smack with a feather-light press of his lips on the skin afterward. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your life,” Johnny said, so softly he hoped Daniel missed it. 

But of course he didn’t. “You didn’t,” he said, and his hand on Johnny’s shoulder guided his head to rest on his knee, where he ran his fingers through Johnny’s hair. “You shook it up a bit, that’s fair, but then you helped me stitch it back together.” 

Johnny wasn’t sure if he believed him, but he smiled anyway. 

***

The first call Amanda made when she got home was to her lawyer. It was late in the afternoon, so the perfunctory call turned into making an appointment for the next day, when she could see him in person. When she was finished, she stared down at her phone, at the background – the whole family, everyone smiling at the camera, taken only a week before the school brawl. 

How fake it all seemed now.

She didn’t know how she decided to call Anoush – perhaps it was the gentle way he’d assured her, in their meeting, that he would always be loyal to LaRusso Auto, the way he insisted that what he really meant was that he would be loyal to _her._

He picked up on the second ring. “Mandy?” 

“Take me out for a drink,” she said, and she could hear his shocked laugh on the other end of the phone. “Tonight.” 

“Tonight?” he repeated. “You’re sure?” 

“Anthony is at a friend’s house,” she said. “Sam isn’t coming home for dinner. Let’s make it dinner and drinks.” 

He hesitated for only a moment. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay?” 

“Don’t ask,” she said. “Just wear a suit.” 

“Always,” he promised. “I’ll see you at eight?” 

***

Aisha wondered who her best friend was now. It was always easy to say Sam, they had known each other the longest. But once she’d joined Cobra Kai, that had felt like a lie. Sure, they were still friends, most of the time, but they weren’t best friends, really, not anymore. For a while, it seemed like Miguel was her best friend. 

Now it felt like it could be Eli. They were friends when he was still Hawk, and his defection from Kreese’s Cobra Kai had only strengthened their bond. They were alike in that way.

“I gotta say,” she told him, “I really like the return of the original Eli. The OG.” 

He self-consciously touched his newly shortened hair. “I don’t know,” he said, “it still feels a little weird.” 

“I like it,” she insisted, slipping her arm through his elbow. “And I’m glad that you decided to come train with us at Miyagi,” she added. “I know that wasn’t an easy decision.” 

He shrugged. “It doesn’t feel that different, really.” 

“Just wait until Mr. LaRusso starts teaching,” Aisha promised. “It’s going to turn into meditation and yoga really quick.” 

“Imagine Sensei doing yoga,” Eli laughed. 

She waved him off, laughing. The idea was ridiculous. She was so busy laughing that she missed Tory, standing by the lockers, her back to them both, listening. 

***

Tory expected Kreese to be angry when she told him that Hawk had defected to Miyagi-do. She’d expected some sort of outburst, or a thrown punch, something that released whatever anger he must have felt. But instead, he took the information stoically, his face barely changing, the newspaper he’d been reading lowered to the desk.

“Sensei?” she asked when he didn’t speak. “What do you want to do now?” 

He gave her a smile that chilled her. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. 

“I think it’s time that I return my lost cobras to the fold,” he said, as if that made anything clearer to her. “I don’t think that’s a task you’re suited for.” 

“You – maybe you don’t need to get Hawk back,” she said in a rush. “I can win the All Valley. You don’t need him to win.” 

He gave her a smile with teeth, a smile that she once considered fatherly. Now it was just patronizing. “Miss Nichols, no woman will ever win the All Valley Tournament. Not you, not any woman.” 

“That’s ridiculous –”

“Overreaching is just another failure,” Kreese reminded her. “Now, get out there and start warm ups.” To drive home his point, he lifted his newspaper and covered his face, effectively shutting her out. She stood there for a moment, staring at the headlines, before she sighed and left.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a lull before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW in this chapter for a homophobic slur! If words like that upset you, please do not read the last section of this chapter. Much love!

Amanda never thought she’d be the affair type. Hell, if she were honest, she never thought Daniel would be either; that was part of what attracted her to him so much. He was so dedicated, all-in from the beginning, that she liked the idea of being on his team, of them being unstoppable together. 

Having that team dissolve like a sugar cube in one of those cups of tea her mother used to make her drink at church parties was like being slowly tortured, and the longer she let it happen (because she couldn’t truthfully tell herself that she had done all she could to stop it), the angrier she was. 

But she was still sensible. She couldn’t force Daniel to be faithful – she couldn’t force him to forget Johnny. It hadn’t worked in three decades, it surely wasn’t going to work if it came from her mouth instead of someone else’s. So instead of fixing the root of the problem, she coped. 

She talked to her lawyer about filing for divorce, and how the business would be divided in the event of her marriage breaking down. It had been tedious, and complicated, and her lawyer finally had to admit that all of their planning and strategy could be hindered if Daniel decided he didn’t agree with her decisions. 

Which meant she had to tell him that she wanted a divorce, which was, somehow, harder than looking at the papers, in a manila folder on her desk. It was easier, instead, to pretend that they weren’t there. It was easier to let Anoush meet her on the patio on the nights where Sam would be at Miyagi-do, her feet bare and barely skimming the top of the pool, Anoush pouring her another glass of wine, his hands tentative on her shoulders, massaging the stress of work out of her, his reassurances naïve in her ear. 

It was easier to let herself succumb to the same temptation that had carried away Daniel. 

And if she were honest – being with Anoush (if it could even be called that, they hadn’t so much as kissed) was fun, was a distraction from the complexities of her life that threatened to pull her under a wave of stress and anxiety when she went to bed at night, and Anoush was nice. 

She deserved nice. 

***

Daniel loved waking up in the morning when Johnny was next to him. He was an early riser (work made him one), so he always had the opportunity to study Johnny’s face while he slept. Initially, he’d felt creepy staring at him at six in the morning, his eyelids still heavy with sleep, but Johnny was a different person when he was asleep – unguarded and angelic. 

And then he’d wake up when Daniel’s second alarm went off and start whining about sounds disturbing his beauty rest, and the spell would be broken. 

But for a few minutes, Daniel was free to trace the line of his jaw, brush his blond hair away from his forehead so it stuck out in every direction, and press the wrinkles of his brow out with the pad of his thumb. 

This morning, however, when he woke up, Johnny’s eyes were already open, staring at him in the dark, luminous and almost cat-like. 

“What are you doing awake?” Daniel asked as Johnny’s arms pulled him closer. 

“Your alarm is loud,” Johnny reasoned, dropping his head so it was nestled in the crook of his neck. 

Daniel let him, dropping his shoulders to allow him more room. “It doesn’t usually wake you up.” 

“You mean when you sit there and stare at me while I’m sleeping?” Johnny asked, his voice rough with sleep but slick with humor. “It always wakes me up, LaRusso, I just let you have your little fetish.” 

“It’s not a _fetish_!” Daniel yelped, pushing Johnny away so he could see his entire face. “It’s not my fault that you are pretty when you sleep and an asshole when you’re awake.” 

“Um, I think that’s definitely your fault, LaRusso,” Johnny said, laying back on the bed, his arms bare and tan and muscled, propping his head up. “Everyone else thinks I’m a fucking delight.” 

“Oh they do?” Daniel asked, sitting up completely so he could catch his second alarm before it went off. “God, I get you in my bed, in my house, in my dojo, and you don’t want to be charming for me?” 

“Are you _whining_ , LaRusso?” Johnny asked, and Daniel could hear the excitement in his voice, given the opportunity to antagonize him. Daniel loved giving him the opportunity. 

“I’m just saying, I don’t think I’m going to believe this whole _‘I’m a charming’_ guy thing unless I see it with my own two eyes,” Daniel shrugged, biting back his grin. 

Johnny gave him a faux-serious nod. “I can be very charming.” 

“Mmm, okay, prove it, then,” Daniel murmured as Johnny pushed him down, back onto the pillows, taking his phone out of his hand and tossing it onto the chair by the closet that now housed some of Johnny’s shirts and his black gi. 

“Yes, Sensei,” Johnny dipped in for a kiss, and Daniel resigned himself to being late to work that morning. 

***

“Did you know there’s going to be a homecoming dance this year?” Moon asked, her eyes still trained on her phone. Robby, beside her, glanced over, his mouth full of a bite of apple. He chewed pensively, trying to figure out what this meant. 

He liked Moon, and he had no compunction about people knowing, but he hadn’t asked her out yet. He wanted to, and he had planned out what he was going to say, but every time he had an opportunity, he put it off, rationalizing that she was probably just being nice to him, or she had a lot going on in her life right now (didn’t they all) and he would just ask her out later. 

Now, he could see another opportunity. He swallowed his bite of apple, trying to decide if he was going to capitalize on it or not. 

“I think you should be my date,” she continued, turning her honey eyes on him, eyebrows raised. 

He coughed, and she grinned at him, all perfect teeth and sunshine, and before he could over-think it, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, for just a moment, pulling back when her breath caught, his eyes searching hers for a reprimand. 

She just took his hand and went back to her phone, a blush high in her cheeks. 

***

“I think I’m going to file for divorce,” Daniel said, his hands covered in potting soil, on his knees in the garden. He said it like he would any other sentence, like he was planning on going to the grocery store later, and did Johnny need anything? 

Johnny just gaped at him, the watering can in his left hand, freshly refilled like Daniel had asked, pruning shears in the other hand. When he didn’t say anything, Daniel turned to look at him, face illuminated by the sunlight, long eyelashes casting cobwebbed shadows on the planes of his cheekbones, his mouth pressed in an indecipherable line. 

“Did you hear me?” he asked, taking the pruning shears from Johnny’s hand. 

“Uh,” Johnny almost laughed, a mirthless chuckle of surprise that Daniel definitely would have misinterpreted. “Are – are you sure that’s what you want?” 

He expected Daniel to turn the question on him. That was a Daniel move, after all. Before you give up your own information, your own position, ask the other party, so you can plan your strategy around it. The man was a fucking chess player in normal conversations, but this time, he defied expectations. 

“Yes, I think so,” he said calmly. “I’ve thought a lot about it.” 

So had Johnny, but he didn’t dare broach the subject. He figured it wasn’t his place, as the _other man_ , or whatever he was supposed to be called, to dictate what Daniel did with his marriage. But Daniel and Amanda hadn’t spoken in over two weeks, since their fateful argument on the first day Miyagi-do reopened, and Johnny figured it would just be easier for them both if they just continued to stay separated. 

“It isn’t fair to you or Amanda,” Daniel continued, his face turned back to one of his bonsai, shears in his hand, studying the branches. Johnny loved to watch him trim the bonsai. He never told him, of course, because that would inflate his ego, and the last fucking thing he needed was a cocky Daniel LaRusso walking around, but it was soothing, watching Daniel exert his control over the bonsai with such precision, without ever questioning if he was doing the right thing. 

Johnny wished he could do the same thing on his own life. 

“Besides, I think she’s sleeping with Anoush,” Daniel was just talking to himself at this point, Johnny content to stand there, the watering can extended in Daniel’s direction should he need it, the sun beating down on his neck. 

“She’s _what_?” Johnny finally sprang to life, even the hypnotizing act of Daniel trimming bonsai shoved aside in favor of gossip. “That guy?” 

Daniel chuckled once, but shrugged. “He’s been head over heels for Amanda for years, Johnny,” he said. 

“Oh?” Johnny asked. “You mean like you have been for me?” 

“I wouldn’t call it head over heels,” Daniel pointed out. 

“Ass over heels?” Johnny asked, jumping back when Daniel flung some potting soil at him. 

But he dropped to his knees anyway, pressing a kiss to the back of Daniel’s head while he worked, trusting that gesture to communicate how he felt. Daniel leaned back into his arms for a moment, humming his appreciation, and Johnny felt better.

***

Eli thought that getting rid of the mohawk would get rid of most of his problems. At least symbolically, he was reverting back to who he was before he was Hawk. He kept little pieces of Hawk, pieces that he liked, but he didn’t want to be angry anymore, he didn’t want to look in the mirror and not recognize himself anymore. 

He was lucky – Demetri accepted him with no arguments, and everything he had done as Hawk was carefully discussed (between comic books and Twizzlers), and their apologies were as heartfelt as they were private. Demetri saw him as Eli, not Hawk. He thought everyone else would be the same. 

And in a way, some of them were. Aisha, Sam, Robby, Moon, Bert, Miguel – they all had no problem accepting him as he was now. There were no questions, just a moment where they took in the absence of the mohawk, and then they would nod, and the conversation would continue. 

But Tory – she had been his friend. He felt like he’d abandoned her, and in apologizing to Demetri for treating him like garbage, he realized that he didn’t want to do the same thing to her. So he hadn’t blocked her number, even when she was calling him in the middle of the night, drunk, demanding that he return to Cobra Kai, even when she texted him “where r u” before every Cobra Kai training session. 

When he had his shit together, he would go back for her, he thought, thinking of it like a combat situation. He would get her out of there. 

And then she was leaning against his locker, her arms crossed, and he didn’t have the time to get anything together. 

“You’re avoiding me,” she said, her voice flat. She had a fresh cut above her eyebrow, a crusted scab that probably needed to be covered. He eyed it cautiously. So she was still taking private lessons with Kreese. 

“I’ve gotten your messages,” he said evasively, opening his locker and shoving one book in, rummaging in and pulling out his chemistry one. “I just didn’t know what to say to them.” 

“Just say you’re a pussy –”

“I’m not coming back to Cobra Kai,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry if Kreese is punishing you because I left –”

“He says you’re the only one who can win the All Valley,” she said. “So you have to come back.” 

“He’s wrong,” he said, closing his locker and shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “ _You_ could win.” 

“Women can’t win the All Valley,” she said, and he could hear in her voice that she was quoting Kreese. “He told me it was my job to bring you back.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he really meant it. The words will still foreign to him – he had avoided them for so long, thinking they were an admission of guilt, of softness. But he really was – she was so angry, so lost, and he wished he could help. But there was only so much he could do, and this, he thought, definitely exceeded his abilities. 

“I hope you don’t come back,” she said finally. “I want him to take me seriously.” 

“He won’t,” he said, and that was a mistake. Immediately, she shoved him into the lockers; his shoulder landed on one of the locks. “He won’t ever change the way he thinks about you. The best thing you can do is leave.” 

“Fuck you,” she spat, but when she walked away, she looked back, just long enough to catch his gaze, and kept going. 

***

Kreese’s cigar smoke was something that haunted Daniel years after he thought the man was dead. It brought back the images of Terry Silver, the planks of wood he had to break, the blood that ran through his fingers and landed, with an audible sound, on the floor. When he smelled that same cigar, months before, it had transported him back there. His anger had been violent, and he remembered, in that haze of rage, Johnny’s confused furrowed brow, just in his peripheral vision. 

He had never explained why Kreese set him off like that, and he’d hoped to avoid telling the story for a long time, but when the smell reached him again, in the middle of cleanup after a Miyagi-do training, he realized that it couldn’t be put off. 

Johnny spotted him first – he was on his way to the guest house when the gate slid open, and he went still, so still that Daniel noticed his lack of movement before his senses could tell him that danger was close by. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve –”

“Easy there, tiger,” Kreese cut him off before Johnny could spit anything out. “I’m not here to break up your little love fest.” 

Daniel watched Johnny’s fists tighten across the yard. If he decided to lunge for Kreese, there was no way he could get there in time – and Kreese’s momentary glance in his direction told him that he knew that as well as Daniel. 

“You’ve got ten seconds to leave before I call the police,” Daniel said instead, and Johnny turned to look at him, as if he’d forgotten he was there. The tunnel vision he saw in Johnny’s face was alarming – like he wasn’t standing in the same yard he was anymore, he was somewhere else, transported and completely out of control. 

“You have a student of mine,” Kreese continued, undeterred. “You will return him –”

“ _Fuck you_ –”

“Careful, Mr. Lawrence, your girlfriend might get jealous –”

“Watch it,” Daniel spat, his anger propelling him several steps forward, closer to Johnny, to Kreese, to the acrid smell of his cigar. “If one of your former students has decided to train here, that’s not our fault. Might I suggest some introspection? What about your toxic teachings might students find…repulsive?” 

He wasn’t sure when he arrived at the strategy of angering Kreese to get him to back off of Johnny, but Kreese seemed, if anything, amused rather than angry. He took another puff of the cigar and grinned, his teeth showing around it, and took the cigar out, sending the smoke billowing in Daniel’s direction. 

“You can tell Mr. Moskowitz to return to Cobra Kai –” Johnny flinched horribly at the name, “or things can escalate from here.” 

“Is that a threat?” Daniel asked, his hand reaching for his cell phone. 

“Eli isn’t going back to Cobra Kai,” Johnny sneered, and while his words were strong, Daniel could see the waver in the muscles of his neck, trying desperately to keep the façade going. “We aren’t scared of you.” 

“You should be, Mr. Lawrence,” Kreese replied nonchalantly. “Because, you know as well as I do that Cobra Kai is unbeatable.” 

“Are we just conveniently forgetting 84, then?” Daniel asked. “And 85? And all of the years that Cobra Kai wasn’t in business?” 

“Your little Sensei is dead, Mr. LaRusso,” Kreese said inelegantly, and Daniel clenched his jaw. “Miyagi-do is just a kiddie pool. Cobra Kai is the ocean.” He chewed on the end of his cigar, looking between Daniel and Johnny. “You know, Mr. Lawrence, I always had my suspicions about you,” he spat some of the tobacco onto the ground, taking a leisurely step toward Johnny, who had gone very still. 

Daniel could practically hear his heartbeat from where he stood. He took another few steps, enough to grab onto him if necessary – 

“Should’ve known you’d end up a _fag_ –”

Daniel barely managed to catch Johnny’s fist before he swung, and even when he did, Johnny was strong enough that he almost couldn’t stop him. He slid forward, his shoes losing traction on the ground for a moment, and wrestled Johnny back, whispering apologies into the back of his neck. 

Kreese took a step back, out of Johnny’s range, and surveyed them both with a grin. 

“We will settle this,” Johnny spat, struggling against Daniel’s hold. “You – me – the circle.” 

“Tsk tsk, Mr. Lawrence, so easily riled up,” Kreese scolded sarcastically, but Daniel could see that his eyes were bright, interested. “You want to fight your Sensei? Fine. Cobra Kai – one week. Loser closes their dojo permanently.” 

Johnny, still trying to wrench himself free of Daniel’s restraint, paused in his struggle and turned his gaze to Daniel, his eyes silently asking for his input, his blessing, his permission. 

“I’m not letting Eli go back there,” he said softly, and Daniel could see, in his eyes, determination, whether or not he gave his blessing. 

“Deal,” he said, releasing Johnny’s arms and stepping back.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Daniel start preparations for the fight; Johnny takes Robby shopping for a suit; Miguel offers a revelation, and receives his own reward.

Johnny almost didn’t remember what it felt like to spar with someone who wasn’t a student. He was used to the patient, slow blocks that showed the kids how to do the movement themselves, the half-hearted punches and kicks that he sent their way once he realized that bearing down on them with all of his strength was a quick way to go out of business. 

Sparring with Daniel, now, knowing that it was Kreese looming over them and the survival of Miyagi-do both, was wholly different. When Daniel gave him a bow and came at him, the blocks he reserved for his students weren’t enough to keep him back, and he ended up on the ground with Daniel’s knee in his chest in less than ten seconds. 

“I know you didn’t just let me do that,” Daniel said, standing up and offering Johnny his hand. He took it and let himself be pulled upright again. “You have to focus.” 

He did focus, then, and forced Daniel easily onto the defensive, where he pushed and prodded until he gave him an opening that he took advantage of. Instead of being angry, as Johnny expected, Daniel just gave him a satisfied smirk and set them up again, pushing them both until they were heaving breaths through their mouths, shirts stuck to their chests, the sun high in the sky. 

They took a break for lunch, nothing more than sandwiches standing up in Johnny’s kitchen, cold bottles of water held against their necks. Johnny watched Daniel’s hands around his sandwich, around his water bottle, the little scars on his knuckles so obvious now that he knew how they had gotten there. 

“What?” Daniel asked after a long stretch of silence. 

Johnny didn’t say anything, but deposited his bottle of water on the edge of the counter and reached for Daniel’s right hand, cold where it had been holding his own bottle. He pressed his lips to each knuckle in turn, his eyes on Daniel, whose face melted from confusion to something that looked like soft contentment. 

“I would have told you about all of that sooner if I had known how you were going to react,” Daniel murmured, turning his hand in Johnny’s hold so he could settle his palm over Johnny’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his barely-there stubble. 

“You should have told me,” Johnny said. “Who would understand better than me?” 

He could see Daniel’s eyes pulling away from him, going back to the renovated dojo, the smell of the wood, Terry Silver’s words, Kreese’s laughter. “It was…humiliating,” he said after a moment, and Johnny pulled him into his embrace, light and non-threatening, just arms around Daniel’s waist, barely held together. He felt like he was tethering Daniel to a dock so he wouldn’t float away on bad memories. He wondered how many times Daniel had thought the same thing about him. 

“You are not the only one who has been humiliated by Kreese,” Johnny pointed out. 

“And we’re going to keep it from happening ever again,” Daniel said firmly. Johnny unlinked his hands and stepped back, a faint smile on his face. 

“Yeah we are,” he said, reaching for his water bottle for one last swig. “Let’s get back to work, then.” 

***

They were just about to take another break when the sound of the gate opening pulled their attention to the front of the yard, Daniel’s shoulders taut and straight, his fists tight at his sides. His common sense told him that Kreese wouldn’t be back, not now that he successfully provoked them into initiating a fight, but he was still anxious, his body responding while his mind tried to reason everything out. 

But it wasn’t Kreese, it was Anoush, standing just inside the gate, staring at Johnny and Daniel, both breathing heavily, sweaty, faces flushed red. Johnny, behind Daniel, huffed a laugh, and Daniel turned to catch his gaze, quizzical. 

Johnny raised his eyebrows at him, and Daniel looked away. He saw in Johnny’s face what he was expecting. But Anoush wasn’t here to throw down a gauntlet, to fight Daniel for Amanda’s affections. At least, Daniel was pretty sure he wasn’t going to do that. It wasn’t his style. 

Maybe something had gone wrong at the dealership, and Daniel hadn’t answered the phone when he called. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking over, trying to slow his breathing. “Did something happen at the dealership? Did you call?” 

Anoush gave him a confused grimace, and Daniel was forced to abandon that line of thinking and consider Johnny’s. He could feel Johnny behind him, taking a few nonchalant steps closer, listening in on the conversation without inserting himself into it. 

“The dealership is fine,” Anoush said flatly. “That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Okay,” Daniel replied, noticing for the first time a manila folder in Anoush’s hand, wrinkled slightly by his tight fist. “Are you here for that?” he asked, nodding at the package. 

Anoush pushed it at him, so Daniel had to put his hand against his own chest to catch it. “Do you know what that is?” 

Daniel held it, but didn’t open it. “No, but I think you’re about to tell me.” 

He could feel Johnny getting closer, probably lured into their orbit by Anoush shoving the envelope against his chest. He turned halfway back to him, shaking his head just a fraction to discourage him. 

“Open it,” Anoush said. 

Daniel fumbled with the envelope, sliding the thick slab of papers just slightly out of its wrappings. Divorce papers. He stared down at them for a few seconds. He wasn’t surprised by them, necessarily, he had discussed with Johnny doing exactly this, but being handed divorce papers by Anoush was where he was coming up empty. 

“Those have been sitting in her desk for three weeks now,” he said, his eyes rising to just over Daniel’s shoulder, where he knew Johnny was lingering. “I don’t know what you’re doing, how you’re messing with her head –”

“I’m – I’m not,” Daniel interrupted, his eyes still on the paper. 

“Look, she deserves to be happy,” Anoush continued, bolstered on by Daniel’s confusion. “And I think she could be happy, with me, but we’ll never know if you don’t –”

“She won’t sleep with you while she’s still married,” Johnny said from Daniel’s shoulder. “Is that it?” 

“Johnny,” Daniel snapped, but he could tell by the embarrassment that washed over Anoush’s face that he was right. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but Amanda hasn’t spoken to me in almost three weeks,” he said, slipping the papers back into the envelope. “Whatever is going on between you two is your business, I’m not trying to interfere.” 

Anoush didn’t say anything, but stared at a spot somewhere around Daniel’s chest, all of the fight gone out of him. Johnny, behind Daniel, took a step back. 

“If you love her, like I _think_ you do,” Daniel continued, passing the papers back, “then you have to be patient with her. And put those back where you found them before she finds out you came over here, or you’ll have bigger problems.” 

He felt for Anoush, especially when the man looked about as tortured as he felt when he was trying to come to terms with his own feelings for Johnny. He gently put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

“She will give me those papers when she’s ready,” he reassured him. “And I’ll sign them.” 

Anoush looked down at his feet. “And what if she’s just using me to get over you?” he asked. 

Daniel paused, glancing over his shoulder at Johnny, who had retreated back to their sparring area. “She’s not that kind of person,” he said. 

***

Johnny was still thinking about that exchange between Daniel and Anoush the next afternoon, when he met Robby at the mall. He had been expecting a fight, and he told Daniel as much after Anoush was safely seen to his car, but what had happened was far milder. Anoush was just insecure, Daniel reassured him, that didn’t mean it had to become a fight. 

Johnny wasn’t sure he believed him, but Daniel seemed unbothered, or as unbothered as he could be, considering he was constantly bothered about something, so he let it go. 

He hadn’t been to a mall in years; so many years, in fact, that he had to have Robby meet him in the parking lot to take him to whatever stores they were meant to visit. He didn’t need his father’s help to pick out a suit to wear to this dance that he was going to, but he had seen the hope in Johnny’s face when he asked, and had taken pity on him. 

At least, that’s what Johnny suspected. 

“So this chick asked _you_ to take _her_ to the dance?” he asked while Robby rummaged inside the dressing room, watching his son kick off his unlaced shoes under the gap of the door. 

“I mean, I was going to,” Robby defended weakly. “She just did it first.” 

“I like her,” Johnny decided. Robby chuckled from inside the dressing room, but didn’t say anything. “No one has bothered you at school?” 

Robby hesitated on the other side of the door. “The only one who still looks like they’d enjoy beating me to a pulp is Tory,” he said finally. “Everyone else has kind of enjoyed the ceasefire.” 

“Good,” Johnny said, looking down at his fists, scraped from his hours of sparring with Daniel the day before. It felt rather like looking at a hickey on his skin, a love bite that he couldn’t hide. He smiled to himself and let Robby get dressed. 

“What do you think?” Robby asked, and Johnny glanced up, catching his son in the act of shuffling insecurely in front of the mirror. He caught his gaze in the reflection, his son’s eyes an exact replica of Shannon’s, back when they were still soft and full of idealistic hope. A stab of affection wrenched uncomfortably through him, and he stood to take in Robby’s whole form in the mirror. 

“What color did you say she was wearing?” he asked. 

Robby adjusted the collar of the white shirt. “Pink.” 

“We gotta get you a pink tie, then,” Johnny said mildly. Robby met his gaze again, shifting in his socked feet. “Maybe grey instead of black,” he said, thinking of Daniel’s grey suit, that somehow complimented every single color he wore with it, in a way his black suits just didn’t. 

“You think?” Robby asked, looking back at him without the mirror in the way, and Johnny shrugged. 

“I mean, yeah, maybe,” he said, suddenly second-guessing himself. 

Robby grinned up at him and ducked back into the dressing room. 

***

He met Miguel at the edge of the non-working fountain near Johnny’s old apartment, the door to Miguel’s home open, the light pouring out onto the dim concrete outside. Carmen had allowed Johnny to check in on Miguel on a conditional basis. Miguel had to be within earshot of his own home, Carmen had to be home (probably to listen to them at the door), and Johnny wasn’t allowed to upset him. 

The conditions had embarrassed Miguel more than anyone, and Johnny was more than grateful to spend any time with him. He kept turning to look at him, like he couldn’t believe he was there, his neck in a much smaller brace now, still in a wheelchair to accommodate for his back injury. 

“You’ve been doing your physical therapy,” Johnny said, and it wasn’t a question. Miguel rolled his eyes good-naturedly and nodded. 

“Of course, Sensei,” he said. “I get to get out of this stupid thing next week if it all goes well,” he said, pulling the wheels of the chair back and forth. 

“Good,” Johnny replied, looking up to Miguel’s profile again. His face was thinner, though he suspected part of that was from not constantly eating with Johnny after Cobra Kai trainings. He missed those little excursions suddenly, with such a force he had to turn away and take a breath. 

When he turned back, Miguel was studying him, as much as he could from his vantage point. 

“I heard about the fight,” he said, dropping his voice on the word fight. “Sam told me.” 

Johnny made a non-committal voice with his mouth and turned to look over his shoulder, at the open door of Miguel’s apartment. 

“She’s making dinner,” Miguel reassured him. “She can’t hear you.” 

He still didn’t want to say anything. The risk, knowing the consequence was not being able to visit Miguel anymore, was too great. 

“You and Mr. LaRusso bet Miyagi-do,” Miguel said, undeterred. “He was okay with that?” 

Johnny worried about that every moment his mind wasn’t occupied with something else. It was partly the reason he asked Robby if he wanted help picking out a suit, beyond the ache to do something that made him feel like a good father. He knew Daniel had given him his blessing, had even reassured him that what they were doing was good and noble and necessary, but Miyagi-do was Daniel’s legacy. What would happen if he was responsible for losing it? 

“He really cares about you, huh,” Miguel said when Johnny didn’t speak. It wasn’t a question. Johnny let the statement wash over him like the cool breeze that lightened the suffocating summers of California. Miguel was right – and even though the sentiment wasn’t a surprise, it felt, at that moment, sitting beside Miguel and looking out at the half-empty parking lot, like a revelation. 

“If he asked you to give up the fight,” Miguel pressed. “Would you?” 

“Yeah,” he answered immediately. “Yeah I would.” 

***

Miguel stayed outside after Sensei Lawrence left. He felt like he had missed so much while he had been recovering – Sensei Lawrence’s own growth was so substantial that Miguel felt like he learned new things about Johnny every time he saw him. He wished he could see these changes happen, instead of hearing about them after. 

He missed karate.

His phone jolted in his grip, Sam’s name popping up on a FaceTime request. He accepted it happily, holding his phone up as high as he could without bringing pain to his neck. 

“Hey,” he said when her face came into view, as beautiful as ever, a wrinkle in her brow that told him she was working on pre-cal homework. 

“Hey – are you outside?” she asked, squinting. “It’s dark.” 

“Yeah,” he said, knowing that he should move inside, but still, he stubbornly remained where he was. He would need both hands to wheel himself back inside, and he didn’t want to put the phone down. “Did you just call me for pre-cal help?” 

She grimaced guiltily. “No,” she defended. “I actually called to ask you if you wanted to go to the dance with me on Saturday.”

“Oh,” he said, insecurity creeping in again. He glanced down at himself, in the wheelchair, with his neck brace. “Are you sure –”

“Do you think your mom won’t let you?” she asked, her innocent face concerned. 

He waited for her to say something else, to bring up what he felt could only be the elephant in the room. When she didn’t say anything, he shrugged.

“If you’re worried about the chair,” she said finally, and his eyes jumped back up to hers, “I’m a very good dancer. The secret to being a good dancer is dancing with someone you like.” 

He felt a blush paint his cheeks, and was suddenly grateful it was getting dark. 

“I think if we dance together, you’ll be a great dancer too.” 

***

Johnny drove home in a daze, replaying his conversation with Miguel. Nothing particularly monumental had been said, necessarily, but it felt like it had. It had been an epiphany, a realization that had been lurking near him for a long time, hidden beneath shadow and suspicion, unknowable, unreadable. 

He could see the light in Miyagi’s house, and knew that Daniel would be in there, probably washing dishes, the chore that he always seemed to find a need for. Johnny suspected it was his anxiety that fueled him to constantly wash the dishes that collected in the sink before the sink was even close to full. 

He parked the car next to his, taking a moment to look over at the Audi. It felt familiar, parking his car next to Daniel’s, coming home and knowing what he was doing inside, knowing his son was in the guest house, doing his homework, probably talking to Sam on the phone. 

His conversation with Miguel came back again. 

_He really cares about you, huh._

_If he asked you to give up the fight, would you?_

His feet carried him to the door and through it, forgoing even a knock. Daniel looked up from the sink, where he was drying his hands on the grey dish towel. He was in cargo pants and a loose LaRusso Auto t-shirt, his glasses perched at the edge of his nose. He looked very much like his younger, teenage self even while he still managed to look like a fifty-year-old man. 

His eyes brightened at the sight of Johnny, and he bit his lip on the smile that threatened to take over his face. 

Johnny knew he expected pleasantries, hellos, how are yous, a play-by-play of his trip to the mall with Robby. 

He didn’t give it to him. 

“You love me,” he blurted, the words coming out of his mouth so fast and so suddenly it sounded like an accusation. 

Daniel huffed a laugh, stepping away from the kitchen toward Johnny, who was standing somewhere between the living room and the front door, his car keys still in his hand, his shoes a discarded pile only half a step behind him. 

“What?” he asked, but his eyes were shining, shimmering topaz, and Johnny very nearly forgot his train of thought. 

“You let me bet Miyagi-do,” he explained, even though, as far as explanations went, it was woefully inadequate. Daniel furrowed his brow and nodded once, like he was following so far, and Johnny needed to continue to make it all make sense. “Even though it’s all you’ve ever wanted.” 

Daniel’s eyes searched the room before coming back to him. “Yeah,” he said simply. 

Johnny felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. What did _yeah_ mean? 

“It’s your legacy,” he continued. “It’s Miyagi’s name, it’s the traditional karate you passed on to your daughter –”

“Yes,” Daniel interrupted. “Yes, it is.” 

“Then why would you let me bet it?” Johnny asked, distressed, dismayed suddenly. 

Daniel was standing in front of him now, the reflection of the light above him almost landing on the lenses of his glasses, obscuring his eyes behind a glare. 

“Because I trust you,” he said, like it was obvious. He reached for one of Johnny’s hands, and ran his thumb over the bruised knuckles. “And because I love you.” 

He pulled Daniel toward him, just a simple yank of their connected hands, and caught him just in time to pull his chin up for a bruising kiss, a painful show of gratitude, of knowing. Daniel let him, pulled his lower lip into his mouth and gently sunk his teeth into the flesh, pulling back to kiss the hurt away. 

“I love you,” Johnny all but breathed into the silence that followed. Daniel’s eyes, that had been roving over his face, angled in its closeness, paused and landed on his eyes, shifting as they looked for honesty. Johnny let him look, knowing how much Daniel’s own demons would tell him that Johnny was lying, that he was exaggerating. He kept his gaze on Daniel’s, trying as hard as he could to be an open book. 

“I know,” Daniel finally said, when his inspection was done. It was a lie, but Johnny let him have it, curling his arms around Daniel’s waist and pressing a kiss to his clavicle when he tried to squirm away. 

“If you asked me not to do the fight,” Johnny said, turning Daniel around so he could wrap his arms around him from behind, tucking his chin on Daniel’s shoulder, “I would.” 

Daniel turned slightly in his gentle grip, his mouth just slightly open with disbelief. He laughed again, another breath that was almost a scoff, and Johnny kissed the skin under his ear, a punctuation of his statement. 

“What are you doing right now?” he asked. 

Daniel chuckled. “What are you suggesting?” 

Johnny nipped at the skin of his neck. “I was thinking you turn on those lights in the garden and teach me the wheel technique on that balance thingy,” he murmured. 

Daniel turned completely to him this time, dislodging Johnny’s head from his shoulder. “Holy shit, you _do_ love me.” 

Johnny rolled his eyes, squeezing Daniel’s hand before letting go. “I said what I said, Princess.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight for karate in the valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does happen out of order, hence the addition of the times at the top! Sorry if it gets confusing! 
> 
> All we've got after this is the epilogue.

_7:34 p.m._

Johnny always hoped that he’d have the opportunity to take pictures of his son in a suit before a big dance once he dared hope he could have a relationship with his son at all. He never expected that he’d be taking pictures of his son in Daniel LaRusso’s guest house, Daniel’s hand on his hip, the other one angling the camera in a more flattering angle, his hand pressing through the thick material of his black gi. 

It was dissonant to be dressed like this while his son was in a grey suit and a pink tie, his girlfriend pretty and beaming in her pink dress beside him. They were standing on either sides of a line, father ready to go to war, son enjoying peace. 

“We will be there,” Robby promised, his hand landing on Johnny’s shoulder reassuringly. 

Johnny shook his head. “Just take your girlfriend out for a milkshake instead.” 

“She’s vegan, Dad,” Robby muttered with a half-smile. 

“And? Milkshakes are always good.” 

Robby grinned at him and stepped away, extending his hand for Moon to take. She threaded her fingers through his and let him pull her to his side, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her hair. She smiled at Johnny, serene and kind, and Johnny smiled back. He knew so little about Moon, but he understood why Robby liked her so much from the smallest of gestures. 

“Sam and Miguel should be here soon,” Daniel said. “If you guys want to wait for them.” 

“We’re going to carpool,” Moon said. “My car can hold us all and Miguel’s wheelchair, no problem.” 

It was surreal, watching Miguel and Robby exist in the same place at the same time, both of them looking to him for approval, for reassurance, even if Robby’s eyes also flicked over to Daniel while he did it. It was everything that Johnny had ever wanted, when he allowed himself to want, and still, his reality was starting to outshine the dreams. 

He needed to stop. He was turning into a girl. 

After more promises that they would leave the dance early to come to the dojo to support him, Johnny and Daniel herded the children out of the house and toward the yard, where they all piled into Moon’s car, Miguel rising carefully with Sam’s help, the wheelchair more a formality, it seemed, than anything. 

Soon, that too would be fixed. 

“I hope they don’t come,” he said quietly to Daniel, who pressed a kiss to his shoulder and didn’t answer. 

***

_11:32 p.m._

Daniel didn’t recognize any of the students in the dojo when they walked through the door. He vaguely remembered the one standing at Kreese’s side, long hair braided and eyes looking far forward, like she was anywhere but here. That must have been the one who cut Sam with the same spiked bracelet she still wore around her wrist. 

He wanted to feel angry, and in a way, he did, but the bruise that marred the left side of her face chased the anger away and replaced it with something that felt righteous. He didn’t have to ask to know where that bruise came from. 

_Training_ , Kreese would call it. 

The other students were already kneeling in a circle, their arms clasped behind their backs, eyes trained on the mat in front of them. No one looked up at their entrance. Johnny was standing beside him, but Daniel could tell he was far away. He was back in the eighties, back in the original Cobra Kai dojo, staring his mentor in the face and asking him to be better. 

“You remember the terms,” Kreese said simply, and the kids on the edge of the mat moved out of the way to leave a piece of the circle open for them. 

“I put it in writing,” Johnny said, taking the folder from Daniel’s other hand and holding it out for Kreese to take. “You’ll sign it or this fight isn’t happening.” 

Kreese didn’t even look at it. “I’ll sign it,” he said simply, amiably. “Miss Nichols, go get me a pen.” 

The girl gave him a wounded look at the order but followed it, handing him a pen from what used to be Johnny’s office without a word. Kreese flipped through the contract, only three pages long, and smirked. 

“You want me to relinquish all legal control over the name Cobra Kai?” he asked. 

Johnny went a little stiff beside him. “Actually, that part is just for me. Technically you have no legal control over the name Cobra Kai. Terry Silver does.” 

Daniel barely suppressed a shiver. Johnny’s hand came to rest on the small of his back. Kreese took in the movement with a smile. 

“And Terry Silver, according to the state of California, is dead.” 

Kreese’s smile faltered. 

“Died from lung cancer, his death certificate said,” Daniel added. “He was your smoking buddy, wasn’t he?” 

The spasm that crossed Kreese’s face made him look almost human. Daniel relished in it before he registered Johnny had continued talking. 

“According to his estate, the name Cobra Kai was not left to anyone, and its trademark expired in 2014,” he said. “So in relinquishing control of the name after you lose this fight, no one will own it.” 

That wasn’t necessarily true – Daniel had submitted an application to trademark Cobra Kai under Johnny’s name, but he didn’t know that yet. He had the paperwork in his desk, along with his signed divorce papers. Perhaps he’d just give Johnny two manila folders just to watch him complain about Daniel’s penchant for giving nerdy gifts before he realized what they were. 

But he was getting ahead of himself. 

***

 _8:12 p.m._

“I don’t know about this,” Demetri said for the twelfth time, adjusting his bowtie in the mirror, even though it was permanently crooked. “What if Tory is there? What if –”

Eli rolled his eyes and turned Demetri around by his shoulders, adjusting the bowtie himself. “I’ll protect you,” he said. “Just because the mohawk is gone doesn’t mean the fury of the hawk is gone.” 

“Ugh, don’t start with that –”

“The fury of the hawk –”

“You sound like a football player –”

“The _fuuuuury_ –”

“Eli for the love of God –”

“ _The hawwwwwwwwwwk!_ ” 

“You’re so annoying,” Demetri said fondly, turning away from Eli back to the mirror. “Hey, it’s straight.” 

Eli smirked. “The only straight thing in the room.” 

He could see, from his vantage point, Demetri’s shoulders slump. “Okay, that’s it. Go to the dance yourself! I will not be seen with someone who makes pun-based jokes!” 

He’d forgotten what it felt like to really laugh; to enjoy it instead of suppressing it to seem cooler. With Demetri, his laughter always seemed to edge toward childish and hysterical. He had always been embarrassed by the way he laughed – but Demetri had always enjoyed it. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” he relented, allowing Eli to pull him into his arms. “I will go to the dance with you, but if anyone asks, you begged.” 

“The hawk does not beg –”

“We’re breaking up.” 

The laughter followed them out to the car. 

***

_6:46 p.m._

“Mom, I have to go soon, I told Miguel’s mom I’d pick him up at 7:15 and then I have to make it to Dad’s –” she stopped, stumbling over the word, and looked up at her mother. Amanda’s face didn’t change, but there was a shift in her shoulders, like she was pulling herself up to stand straighter. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean –”

“That’s where he lives now,” Amanda reassured her, turning Sam by the shoulders so they were looking at each other in the mirror, almost identical in coloring, small differences in Sam’s bone structure the only testament to Daniel’s genetics. “You don’t have to keep yourself from talking about him.” 

Sam pursed her lips. It was a nice gesture, but she knew that it wasn’t really what her mother wanted. It was easier for them to exist here during the week if she didn’t mention her dad. They both didn’t want it to be that way, but reopening the dojo had permanently damaged her mom’s view of her dad. And, in a way, she worried that it damaged her mom’s view of her, too. 

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said, watching her mom absently rearrange her curls over her shoulder. “About karate.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Amanda said simply. “I don’t want you worrying that I blame you.” 

Karate always made her feel closer to her dad. They had an unbreakable bond – everyone said so, ever since she learned to walk. But sometimes, her mom just knew exactly what to say. Sam nodded at her, not trusting her voice to speak, and turned to give her a hug. 

“Anoush and I are going out to dinner,” her mom said when she pulled back. “But I want you to call me anyway if there’s any drinking or drugs, got it?” 

“Got it,” she promised. 

***

 _9:53 p.m._

“You know,” Miguel said, his voice immediately causing Sam to lean toward him, “I had planned on trying to be out of this thing by tonight so we could dance for real.” 

Sam smiled, her eyes soft, and dropped her hand over his, resting on the wheel. His gloves were black with a little light blue ribbon that matched her dress. “That’s sweet, but I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard for a dance. I’m having fun with you, just like this.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah, but this shouldn’t feel like a John Green novel –”

“You don’t have terminal cancer –”

“Yeah, but –”

She put both hands on the sides of his face. “There is nothing wrong with being in a wheelchair, Miguel Diaz,” she said firmly. “Besides, we’ll have plenty more dances to go to when you’re all healed, and you can dance standing on your feet until you’re begging me to let you sit down.” 

He smiled, turning his hand so they could intertwine their fingers, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Promise?” 

She nodded. “Of course. Now, let’s get on the dance floor and boogie before we have to go watch my dad and your surrogate dad beat Kreese into the ground.” 

“Did you just say _boogie_?” 

“I only hang out with my dad, Miguel, what kind of jokes do you want?” 

They found Robby and Moon on the dance floor, Hawk and Demetri close by. It felt almost impossible, seeing them all like this, happy and so different than how they were on the first day of school. Sam could still see, if she closed her eyes, the way the school looked when she walked down the halls with Yasmin and Moon, when she wasn’t sure how to be their friend and Aisha’s. She remembered seeing Miguel, with Eli and Demetri, on her way to the popular table. 

She opened her eyes and caught Miguel looking up at her, his eyes shining. 

“Help me up,” he said, holding out his hands. 

Beside them, Hawk and Demetri stopped dancing at the sound of his command. 

“Miguel, no,” she said. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

“I’m not going to dance,” he promised. “Trust me. Just help me up.” 

He carefully lifted the platforms under his feet and put his feet on the ground. Hawk and Demetri held the sides of his wheelchair steady while he tried to push himself to his feet. Sam held out her hands for him to take, and he fastened his hands around her arms instead, letting her use her strength to keep him upright. 

He had done this already tonight, when he had gotten in and out of Moon’s car, but she felt as awed now as she did then. She could feel his legs shaking, could feel the way his hands on her arms were tight, nervous. 

“Whoa, man, be careful,” Robby’s voice was suddenly beside her, and Miguel hardly looked away from her to acknowledge him. 

“I’ll be alright,” he said, “I just wanted to do this.”

It was a John Green cliché-level kiss, surrounded by their friends on the middle of the dance floor, but it was somehow fitting. It reminded her of all the videos Miguel used to send her, of the fetal pig they dissected, of Senor Octopus. It was exactly Miguel, and it was exactly her. 

She kissed him back gently, trying to stay aware of his legs, of his hands on her arms. He pulled away, grinning smugly, and allowed his friends to deposit him safely back into his wheelchair. 

She shook her head at him, laughing, and looked up in time to see Aisha, wearing a purple suit, walk up to their circle. 

She rushed to her friend, enveloping her in a tight hug. Aisha hugged her back, laughing when Sam didn’t let go. 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Sam said. 

Aisha shrugged. “Dances haven’t really been my thing since…” 

Sam grimaced. 

“But I wanted to be here so we could all go support Sensei Lawrence together.” 

Sam grabbed her hand and tugged her deeper into the dance floor. “Well, at least dance with me once before we have to go.” 

Aisha rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. 

***

 _11:48 p.m._

“I don’t think they’re coming,” Daniel’s voice shook Johnny out of his reverie, and he watched the room come back into focus. The students were still kneeling on the mats, staring down at nothing. No matter how many times he tried to tell them they could get up, none of them acknowledged him. None of them spoke to him. 

It was wretched, seeing what Kreese had done to these kids in his absence. It washed over him like waves of guilt, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the beach, about walking into the ocean and hoping it would carry him away. 

He looked over at Daniel, who was still watching him. 

“You remember what we practiced,” Daniel said softly. 

“Let him come to me,” Johnny repeated. “Yeah yeah, Miyagi-do and defense and all that.” 

Daniel shrugged. “It’s how Mr. Miyagi beat him before.” 

“I know,” Johnny replied. “Now I want you to promise me that you won’t let your Italian temper get the best of you while I’m in there.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think –”

“I know you,” he said firmly. “And I know the first time Kreese hits me in the face you’re going to try to jump over those kids and get in there. That’s not the deal, and that’s not what the contract says. I’ve got to beat him myself.” He put his hand on Daniel’s jaw, just barely letting his thumb graze over the barely visible stubble. 

Daniel opened his mouth like he was going to argue and then snapped his jaw shut again. 

“I can beat him,” Johnny said. “You’ve just gotta let me.” 

Daniel took his hand and squeezed. “I know you can.”

“If you’re finished with your disgusting display,” Kreese’s voice made the room feel suddenly colder. “We can get started.”

He could feel Daniel inhale sharply through his nose, Kreese’s insult burying itself deep. He kept his hand on Daniel’s jaw, soft and insistent, and pulled his gaze back to him. 

“Let’s get the over and done with,” he said. 

***

_11:35 p.m._

“He said he didn’t want me to come,” Robby said, Moon’s head resting on his shoulder. “Is that dad-speak for he really wants me to be there? Or did he mean it?” 

Moon looked up at him. “Why didn’t you ask him what he meant?” 

“He’s a man of the eighties,” Robby rolled his eyes. “Being open about his feelings isn’t exactly badass.” 

She smiled and shrugged. “I’m sure he’d be honest with you if you asked.” 

“Maybe,” Robby muttered. 

She took gentle hold of his wrist. “Besides, I think you really want to be there,” she said. “To support him.” 

He nodded. 

“Isn’t that important, too?” 

“What are we talking about?” Eli asked, holding two cups of punch. 

“Going to see my dad fight,” Robby said. 

“Oh, we’re going,” Demetri said, sliding up to take Eli’s other cup of punch, pulling the now empty hand to settle around his waist. “I’m never going to pass up an opportunity to see that inaccurate tattoo owner get punched in the face.” 

“Of _all things_ –”

“Yes, Eli, it’s the tattoo that really bothers me,” Demetri said over Robby and Moon’s laughter. “It’s inaccurate. You know what’s more badass than Cobra Kai? Tattoo accuracy. It’s on you _forever_.” 

“It’s just a snake.” 

“Okay, tell that to the snake that bites you in the dark when you’re trying to figure out if you’re going to die or if a garden snake just wanted a snack.” 

“Ignore him,” Eli said. “He’s had too much punch.” 

“Are we going?” Sam asked, Miguel and Aisha following behind her. Robby looked down at Moon, who was already looking up at him, her eyebrows raised. 

“Of course we are,” he said. 

***

 _12:01 a.m._

It was going poorly. 

As much as Johnny claimed that he could beat Kreese, as often as they had trained and prepared, Daniel could see, even from his vantage point, that Johnny didn’t feel as confident as he behaved. Maybe it was Daniel’s insistence that he focus on defense that shook him, or maybe it was just memories from ’84. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was losing. 

Kreese still stuck with the same Cobra Kai mantra – 

_Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy._

He had drawn first blood, and then he’d set a brutal pace that kept Johnny constantly on the defensive, blocking and dodging and losing all opportunities for a counterattack. Blood was running freely down his lip, smeared on his chin where he’d tried to wipe it away. 

Still, he was on his feet, and that was what mattered. If Johnny couldn’t knock him out in just a few minutes, then all he had to do was wait for the older man to get tired. And he would tire eventually. 

Daniel winced but refused to turn away when Kreese landed another punch, this one on Johnny’s cheekbone. He heard Johnny’s grunt of pain, heard the sound of Kreese’s fist hitting skin. The students sitting in the circle didn’t move, didn’t flinch. 

Johnny, on a block, managed to force Kreese back a few steps, and used the leverage to swing toward the older man’s face. 

And missed. 

Kreese caught the extended arm and used it to lever Johnny over his shoulder and onto the mat. He landed hard, at an awkward angle, his shoulder taking the brunt of the hit. 

_“Dad!”_

Daniel had to catch Robby before he could jump over the kids kneeling in the circle to go to his father, whose eyes sprang open at the sound of his voice. 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Daniel said quietly as the rest of them filed in, grim determination on their faces, their formal wear painfully out of place. 

“You wished we wouldn’t come,” Sam said bracingly. “We were never going to miss it.” She put a hand on his shoulder and then walked past him to the edge of the circle. “Get up,” she told Johnny, who was already struggling against Kreese’s hold. “Remember what you taught us.” 

Daniel frowned. What did that mean? Remember what you taught us? 

And then Johnny was on his knees, and his back push kick caught Kreese in the chest, propelling him backward and almost out of the circle. Sam stepped back, a satisfied smile on her face, crossing her arms. 

“No mercy, Sensei!” Aisha called, sliding off her suit jacket and leaving it on the top of the cubbies. 

He released Robby’s arm and turned back to the fight. Kreese was breathing heavily, his face beet red, but Johnny wasn’t lifting his right arm to block his face. Daniel watched as Kreese sent a punch his way that Johnny could have easily deflected with his right hand. 

But he didn’t – he dodged out of the way and used the movement to his advantage, but his weakness was obvious. The injury was obvious. 

“He’s hurt,” Miguel said. “He’s hurt, you have to end it.” 

“We can’t end it,” Eli said. “No one can end it but them.” 

Another punch, another kick, and Johnny was bleeding from the nose and the mouth, every breath labored. He was still on the defensive, still trying to wait for his opening. He was doing what Mr. Miyagi would have wanted, what Daniel wanted. 

And if he kept doing it, he was going to _lose._

“John,” Daniel called from the sideline. Johnny’s head jerked in his direction for a fraction of a second before he refocused on Kreese. “Forget what Mr. Miyagi taught me. End it.” 

Johnny wasn’t even looking at him, but Daniel saw him nod once. 

He took a hit to the chest and ignored it, sending punches and kicks in a smooth, fluid motion so graceful it could have been a dance if he didn’t have an opponent, if he wasn’t still protecting his right arm. Kreese deflected some of them, but he couldn’t keep them all at bay. 

Johnny backed him up to the edge of the circle and Daniel saw him glance down at the kids kneeling there. How long before one of them got hit by accident? 

And then he caught Kreese around the arm and flipped him into the mat, knee against his throat. 

“Give up,” he said, and more blood came out of his mouth. Tory, on the sidelines, winced. 

Kreese’s breath was nothing but a wheeze. “Never.” 

Johnny growled, his teeth clenched tightly, and pulled Kreese up into a headlock, his arm tight around his neck, his face screwed up in pain. 

“Give up.” 

Still, Kreese said nothing, just squirmed weakly against Johnny’s hold. 

“God dammit, I said _give up_!” 

He didn’t give up, not until he was unconscious in a heap on the ground. Johnny let him go, let him fall limply on the mat, and went down immediately after him. 

***

_2:54 a.m._

His shoulder was dislocated, his nose was broken, and he cracked a tooth. All things considered, Johnny felt pretty lucky. He was sitting on a tiny ER bed with Daniel on one side, Miguel, Sam, and Robby on the other. He felt like hell, and he definitely looked like hell, if everyone else’s averted gazes were anything to go by, but he felt lighter. Accomplished. 

Cobra Kai would be his again. After Kreese closed it, of course. It was all a lot of legal mumbo jumbo that Daniel had tried to explain in the ambulance once he woke up and started trying to take needles out of his arm, but he didn’t really understand it. He didn’t really care. 

“You guys should go home, get some rest,” he said to the teenagers, who were half-asleep already anyway. 

“I’ll make sure they get home safe,” Aisha said from the doorway. 

“Miss Robinson,” Johnny called weakly. “Do you think we can negotiate a peace with Miss Nichols?” 

She considered the question thoughtfully, and then shrugged one shoulder. “We can try.” 

“Atta girl.” 

And then suddenly they were alone, Daniel holding loosely to his hand from the chair beside the bed, waiting for the doctor to come back with whatever pain pills they were about to pump him full of. 

“You almost got your ass kicked in there, old man,” Daniel said softly, his thumb rubbing his bruised knuckles gently. 

“Shut up, LaRusso,” he chuckled, but damn, did it hurt to laugh. Daniel laughed with him, standing up from his seat to stand beside him. 

“I love you,” he said, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “But remind me, next time I try to make you follow Mr. Miyagi’s teachings, that you’re pretty badass without it.” 

“Nah,” Johnny muttered, closing his eyes. “I gotta keep learning what the old man taught you.” 

“Yeah?” Daniel asked, prodding him gently in the side. “Because you like it?” 

Johnny cracked one eye open. “Because the combination of Miyagi-do and Cobra Kai will be how I finally beat you.” 

Daniel’s laughter made the pain feel inconsequential. He wanted to listen to it forever.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for some CHEESE because that's what these characters deserve after all the hell I put them through! Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this story, who read, commented, kudoed, bookmarked, all of the above! I'm sending you massive socially distanced hugs!

Daniel waited another week after the fight before he gave Johnny two unmarked manila folders, one only a few pages and the other so thick Johnny let out an _oof_ when they landed on his lap. His nose was still bruised, the skin settling into a nauseating rainbow of yellow and green from the bridge of his nose all the way to his eyes, but his cracked tooth had been repaired, and the sling on his right arm was now more a nuisance than anything else. 

He still had to keep it on for another two weeks, but that didn’t stop him from experimentally moving his shoulder when he managed to get it off, before Daniel could reprimand him and goad him into putting it back on. 

“What’s this?” he asked, his left hand reaching for the heavy stack of paper first, struggling to flip the folder over and open it. “Are you suing me for something?” 

“Defamation of character,” Daniel said, faux-seriously, sitting beside him on the couch. “For all those times you said Pizza Hut makes better pasta than I do.” 

“Theirs has more cheese, LaRusso –”

“I’m not having this fight again,” Daniel retorted, reaching for the folder when Johnny’s hand slipped again. “Here, let me.” 

He leaned over Johnny’s lap to undo the little metal hooks around the envelope, rolling his eyes when Johnny occupied his left hand with systematically ruining his hair. He pulled the stack of papers out of the envelope only halfway, so when he leaned back and Johnny’s eyes went down to the papers, the word “divorce” was clearly visible. 

Johnny took in the words across the page with a soft smile before rearranging his face into his shit-eating smirk. “Are you divorcing me?” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I’ll marry you and then divorce you.” 

“Don’t write checks your ass can’t cash, LaRusso,” Johnny joked fondly, using his left hand to awkwardly pull Daniel toward him for a kiss on the side of his head. “She really signed them?” he asked, looking down at the papers. 

“Yep,” Daniel said. “Shared custody of the kids, she gets the house but I get this property, and we work together on the business.” 

“I’m sure Anoush had something to do with that.” 

“Yeah, well, I think he worried I’d fire him if I got complete control,” Daniel shrugged. “Which I wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah, you need your little suit jockey to help you sell cars –”

“Be nice to Anoush,” Daniel warned. “He helped make the whole divorce process less of a headache.” 

“Yeah, because he was totally doing that out of the goodness of his heart,” Johnny said sarcastically. “Goodness of his dick, maybe.” 

“What are we talking about?” The sound of Robby’s voice sent a sigh through Daniel, who fixed Johnny with a glare. 

“Nothing,” Johnny laughed, ducking his head to avoid Daniel’s eyes. “Where are you going?” 

“Double date,” he said, grabbing his wallet off the counter. “Be back by ten.” 

“Ten?” Johnny asked, turning in his seat to survey his son. “Make it eleven.” 

“My court ordered curfew is ten,” Robby said with a laugh. “So I’ll be back by ten.” 

“Thank you, Robby,” Daniel said before Johnny could say anything else. Johnny just grinned at him until Robby was gone, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“He knows I was kidding,” Johnny defended weakly. 

“Uh huh,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “Open the other one.” 

Johnny shoved the divorce papers over to Daniel’s lap and reached for the smaller envelope. “Can I tear this one open?” he asked, the envelope already on its ill-fated journey to his mouth. 

“No,” Daniel snatched the envelope and opened it, pulling out the two sheets of paper inside and passing them over to Johnny, who looked down at them, read the words at the top, and then looked back at Daniel. 

“You didn’t –”

“Of course I did.” 

“How?” 

“I have lawyers, Johnny,” Daniel said, laughing when Johnny rolled his eyes. 

“When?” 

“Pretty much the day you found out that Cobra Kai had no existing trademark.” 

“You – you hate Cobra Kai.” 

“I hated Kreese,” Daniel corrected gently. “I hated Terry Silver. I hated what Cobra Kai represented. It doesn’t represent that anymore. And you deserve to have the opportunity to change Cobra Kai’s history.” 

Johnny wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, ignoring Daniel’s satisfied smirk. “Did you just do this because you don’t want to teach with me anymore?” 

“Yes, John,” Daniel said sarcastically. “That’s exactly why.” 

He pressed a kiss to Johnny’s hair and smiled when Johnny turned to meet him. 

***

The All Valley Tournament had been the witness of feuds between Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence spanning generations. This All Valley Tournament was the first one that saw Cobra Kai and Miyagi-do compete fairly, with no disqualifications, and no serious injuries. 

Daniel and Johnny watched the tournament play out from opposite sides of the room, their students surrounding them both. It was surreal, their gazes meeting over the mat, knowing they would be getting into the same car after this and going back to their shared home, together. 

Miguel watched from the stands, wheelchair gone, holding a sign with Sam’s name on it. Moon sat beside him, sharing her popcorn. 

By the semi-finals, the only four students left were Sam, Robby, Tory, and Hawk. 

Not that either of their senseis were surprised. 

Hawk’s defeat came at Sam’s hands, a loss from strategy rather than strength. He grimaced when her last point landed (a punch right to the middle of his chest), but shook her hand and laughed when she said something to him no one else could hear. Demetri met him at the edge of the mat with outstretched arms. 

Robby’s loss to Tory was much closer. He wasn’t sure where Tory managed to keep her speed, or her agility, but even Robby’s quick reflexes couldn’t match her unorthodox kickboxing influence and concentration. 

She had been almost a model student since Kreese disappeared. Aisha spent a long time trying to convince her to come back to Cobra Kai now that Johnny was in charge again. 

“I think she’s embarrassed,” Aisha told him after training one day. “Kreese really got to her.” 

He managed to track her down at the roller rink, where Sam told him she still worked. He had to wait patiently for her to go on her break, and even then, she had tried to avert her eyes and pretend he wasn’t there. He caught her, in the end, trying to decide if he should allow her to run from what she’d done or if he should do for her what he always wished someone had done for him.

“I don’t blame you,” he said immediately when he managed to convince her to sit down across from him. “No one blames you for what you did.” 

“They should,” she said firmly, and he caught that determination in her eyes, the fire that Kreese had been drawn to, that he had capitalized on. “I was…”

“You were manipulated,” Johnny said. “He found what you wanted to hear and said it to you, and then he took away all of his approval so you’d work even harder to get it. I know what he does, Miss Nichols. He did it to me.” 

He caught her gaze again, swimming with tears, and felt a pain in his chest. “I did horrible things.” 

“We all have,” Johnny said simply. “But all we can do is try to fix them, right? That’s what I’m doing, sitting here, talking to you.” He looked out over the rink while she considered his face silently. “I shouldn’t have allowed Kreese to take over in the first place. I should have fought harder to protect my students from him. But I didn’t, and so whatever you did, whatever you blame yourself for, it’s partly my fault too.” 

“Sensei –”

“I’ve never really been a sensei to you,” he admitted. “Kreese was. But if you’re willing, I’d like to try to be your sensei, for real this time.” 

She stood in front of him now, eyeliner smudged at the edges where she had wiped at her sweat, her tight French braid releasing little hairs that settled around her young face. Johnny had seen Aisha fixing the braid before the tournament, a soft smile on her face, bobby pins sticking out of her mouth. 

“You can do this,” Johnny told her, smoothing one of the little hairs that she kept missing with her hand. “We knew she would probably make it to the finals.” 

“Yeah,” Tory nodded, her eyes landing on something far away, her mouth settled into a thin line. 

“Hey,” Johnny ducked his head, catching her gaze again. “We’ve talked about this. No more dirty fights, no matter how angry she makes you.” 

Tory smirked. “It’s okay, Sensei. I’m not angry. I’m just…you know, in the zone.” 

“Right, sure, yeah,” Johnny said, looking up and catching Daniel’s gaze, his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Just go out there and do what you do best, and think about it this way,” he pulled Tory into a hug. “Kreese didn’t think women could fight in the tournament. Now look at the finals, not a boy in sight.” 

She laughed, squeezing him tight before pulling away. “Thank you.” 

“Go kick some ass, Miss Nichols.” 

***

He was holding Johnny’s hand when Sam landed the match-winning point, a sweep that even Tory’s lightening reflexes couldn’t avoid. They were tied, two points each, when Johnny walked up and offered his left hand for him to take. 

He had it squeezed tightly in his own, so tightly that Johnny huffed and forced him to loosen his grip, turning the ring on his fourth finger around before Daniel could squeeze his hand again. The dojos were a mixed mass of black and white gis behind them both, huddled as close to the mats as they could get, watching with bated breath. 

Everyone was in agreement that this was the best final match they’d seen at the All Valley since ’84. 

When the point was done and the crowd exploded, Sam leaned over and offered Tory her hand, both of the girls bowing low before the announcer and their friends could come in and celebrate. 

Daniel couldn’t remember when he’d seen two finalists bow at the end of a final match. 

He let go of Johnny’s hand and reached for his daughter, who hugged him tightly until the announcer took her right hand and thrust it into the air. 

“The 2019 All Valley Champion, Samantha LaRusso of Miyagi-do Karate!” 

***

“Mr. Miyagi would have been proud to see Sam holding that trophy today,” Johnny said in a dark booth in Applebees, one eye on the kids while they toasted with nachos, back in their normal clothes. 

Daniel chuckled and took a sip of his martini. “No, he wouldn’t,” he said ruefully. “Mr. Miyagi hated the idea of competing. Karate is for defense only, remember?” 

Johnny shrugged one shoulder. “If he’s got a problem with the way my husband teaches karate, he and his spirit can take it up with me.” 

“You can’t sweep the leg on a ghost, John,” Daniel said, putting down his martini and reaching for Johnny’s Shirley Temple, the trademark drink for the designated driver. “Besides, I know that teaching these students karate might not be exactly what Mr. Miyagi wanted me to do, but I know that if he saw how happy I was, he wouldn’t have a problem.” He pulled Johnny’s arm over his shoulder. “All he wanted was for me to be happy.” 

“Okay, you’re getting a little too Lifetime movie for me,” Johnny remarked. 

“You love it,” Daniel protested. 

“Mhmm,” Johnny hummed, wrestling his Shirley Temple back to take a sip.

It was easy to feel like they were at the end of a Lifetime movie when they had a view like this, happy children given the opportunity to be children, a warm feeling of accomplishment, the knowledge that the loose ends of their lives had slowly started to tie themselves up. Johnny could look up at Robby and know that he didn’t have a court-ordered curfew anymore; he was going to visit his mom for the weekend tomorrow morning. 

Miguel, standing without help, no wheelchair in sight, no lasting injuries. 

Amanda and Anoush, grateful for a night to themselves, with Anthony occupying one of the other booths, his Nintendo Switch lighting up his face while he played, his best friend at his side with a matching device. 

Kreese gone, so far gone no one cared to find out where he went, Cobra Kai safe from his poison.

Hawk, with a much smaller mohawk, his arm slung around Demetri’s waist while the taller, lankier boy regaled Chris with all the ways The Witcher television series was going to be better than the last game, whatever that meant, Hawk smiling up at him with a peace and satisfaction that Johnny had never seen on his face before. 

Robby, lining up a cherry to toss into Moon’s mouth, a laugh already on his lips. 

Sam, sitting next to Aisha, her head on her shoulder, drinking a banana shake. 

“You okay, John?” Daniel asked, pulling Johnny from his reverie. 

He looked down at him, all dark hair and dark eyes, the gold band on his left hand a dull shine in the dim light, and shrugged. 

“It could be better,” he said. “Cobra Kai could have the trophy.” 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “You had it last year!” 

“And we will have it next year, LaRusso, mark my words,” Johnny said, pulling his husband close for a kiss to his forehead. 

“Yeah, yeah, consider them marked,” Daniel grumbled. “Wanna take bets on who it’s gonna be?” 

Johnny looked back down at him. “Hell yes I do.”


End file.
